Lost in translation
by shadowsontherun
Summary: Natasha gives a whole new meaning to silent but deadly.What if she got hurt during an Avengers mission and lost the ability to speak? Now Natasha has to live in a world where she can hear everything – but no one can hear her. Clint stared at her notepad in shock. 'I'm mute - not deaf / stop looking at me like that'. She may be silent but she was still Natasha damn Romanoff.
1. Chapter 1

**Lost in translation **

Clint gasped as he shot up and frantically glanced around the new room he suddenly found himself in. White wall. White bed. White coats. White everything.

Damn it SHIELD medical caught him _again_.

He quickly threw the sheets off of him and glanced down at his torn but still intact Hawkeye uniform. So they just got here. Good. He had to find out what happened after their mission went to hell.

"Whoa agent Barton! We go through this every single week! Stay put until I deem you medically sound…and relatively sane," his SHIELD assigned Doctor said giving him a stern look.

If Clint had an arrow and his arm was working properly the doc would have a hard time seeing right now.

"Where is Natasha?" he asked dangerously. The doctor sighed – it was always the same reaction whenever Barton came into his medical bay.

"Barton I will tell you where Romanoff is _after_ your check up," the Doc said firmly without budging and inch. Clint stalked right up to the Doc's blank face and glared at him.

"I asked you a question – you better answer it," he growled threateningly. The doctor stared back and promptly jabbed the agent in the stomach with the back of his pencil.

Clint fell over with a painful groan. Why did that hurt so much?

"Don't try to intimidate me Barton – it never works and it never will," the doc said shaking his head at the pitiful agent trying to keep it together long enough to find out what he wanted to know. This is exactly why they always kept SHIELD partners together after an accident. They only problem this time was that Natasha needed special care at the moment.

"Now you sit tight and we can get this over with as fast as possible – then we'll see about Agent Romanoff," he said as he glanced down at his notes. He was about to start with Barton's checkup when he paused in writing Barton's name on the sheet.

_Woosh_. A cool breeze came from the door that was suddenly wide open – he had closed it on his way in.

He sighed and glanced up at the empty medical bed in front of him.

Barton was gone.

Time to go to Romanoff's room. _As always._ He wondered if Barton would realize where she was and find her room before he got there.

Meanwhile Clint was frantically running down the halls of SHIELD medical glancing into every patient room he passed as he searched for the one holding the specific redhead he was looking for. He weaved through the crowds of injured agents and medical personnel as he made his way down the physical trauma section of the SHIELD internal hospital. After one thorough search – she wasn't here.

Then…where was she?

He froze as he picked up a conversation happening around the corner from where he stood frozen to the ground.

"How is Romanoff doing?" he heard the voice of agent Jones – the handler they got after Coulson was gone.

"We don't know the specifics yet. They're going to monitor her situation for now. She's awake at the moment…but they aren't sure how to fix the damage yet," Fury said guardedly. Clint froze…damage? What damage?

"What is she saying?" Jones asked slowly. Fury paused.

"That's the thing Jones – she's not saying anything. It's a very delicate case at the moment…" Fury said carefully.

Delicate case meant…

Clint spun around and stared up at the special cases sign that led to the smallest section of the medical bay. Natasha would be there. He flew down the hall and didn't even stop to check if anyone noticed his worrying actions.

Agent Jones and Fury shared a wary look.

"What is he going to do when he finds her?" Jones asked quietly. Fury shook his head slowly and glanced down at the medical reports he held in his hands. They did not look promising.

"He is going to have to come to terms with their new reality," Fury said reluctantly.

Clint rounded the corner as he ran pass medical room after medical room. He skidded to a halt when he saw a wave of red hair in one of the rooms he had just passed. He quickly backtracked the way he came and froze in front of the room he was looking for.

"Natasha…" he whispered out of breath as he stared at her through the window into her private room. She glanced up at him and froze. She opened her mouth to say something but something stopped her. She closed her mouth and looked away. Clint furrowed his brow as he watched her wrap her arms around her knees and stare out the window beside her.

She looked…_healthy_.

What was wrong then? He didn't think he quite wanted to know the answer yet.

He slowly walked into her room and shut the door silently behind him.

"Natasha...?" Clint asked cautiously. Her eyes fell to her knees as she looked away from his searching gaze. She wasn't responding to him. Why wasn't she responding?

"Do you know who I am?" he asked slowly. She gave him an '_are you joking?' look_. Okay so she didn't have amnesia or something.

"Why aren't you talking then…Can you hear me...?" he asked carefully. She snorted. He blinked as she reached over the side of her bed and picked up a well-worn notepad. He watched in confusion as she scribbled something onto the paper.

_'I'm mute, not deaf Clint. Stop overreacting,_' she wrote across the notepad and passed it to him. He read the note and froze.

"What?" he asked in utter confusion. When did this happen? How did this happen?

Why had no one told him about this?

"Are you okay?" he asked anxiously. She shrugged and curled a stray strand of red hair around her ear. His eyes softened. He can't imagine what she was going through at the moment. From the way she was completely in control he didn't think she was thinking too hard about her situation either.

"Can they fix it...?" he asked quietly. A shadow seemed to pass over her face before it quickly disappeared.

She gave him a look and gestured for him to give her the notepad back. He passed it to her and watched as she wrote out another phrase. She held it out for him to see as she looked away and stared out the window. It was raining outside. Why did the weather always have an uncanny way of reflecting how you were feeling that day? He glanced at the page and his heart nearly shattered right then and there.

_'Do you think I'm broken?_' was scribbled across the page in neatly curved letters. He gave her a soft look and slowly shook his head.

"Never Tasha. Never broken," he whispered slowly taking the notepad out of her hand and pulling her into a tight embrace. She tensed in his arms but didn't pull away. She slowly wrapped her arms around him and took a shaky breath. He could feel her heart beating at a hundred miles an hour as he held her tightly against his body.

"You're going to be okay Tasha. We're going to be okay," he said firmly as he pulled back and cupped her warm cheeks in his hands. She stared back at him with haunted eyes and gently shoved a folded sheet of paper into his hands. He took the paper from her and unfolded it to reveal a page of writing – her writing.

_Hi,_

_This isn't a letter – I'm not going to start with Dear Clint or something equally nauseating like that. It's the only way I can talk to anyone right now. If I didn't know how to write I don't know what I would do…You realized by now haven't you? That I'm not talking? It's because I can't Clint…I don't know what happened after the explosion went off during our mission – but after an hour of pestering me with a million questions I couldn't answer the only thing the stupid SHIELD medics were able to tell me was that there was something wrong with my vocal cords. Are they stupid or something? I'm not a doctor and even I knew that much! Worthless agents. Honestly. Where does Fury find these idiots? _

Clint snorted. Even on paper her personality bleeds through her words.

_Anyway…I don't know what's going to happen now Clint. I can't talk. I can't verbally communicate at all. It's worse than being in a coma. Because I can see all of you, I can feel of all you, I can hear all of you. But no one can hear me anymore. It's…it's killing me. But don't tell Stark any of this. God that man is going to throw every single damn insult in the book at me once he finds out I can't chew him out like I normally do. I'll have to up my gun threatening now. _

She always did use Stark as an excuse to avoid dealing with her emotions he thought silently.

_Are you okay? How is the rest of the team anyway? I haven't been able to see anyone yet. I knew you would be the first one I would get in contact with – did you ditch your doctors again? They will grill you for it you know. If nothing else SHIELD is all about protocol – if you don't follow protocol they're always nagging or moaning about how coarse and unprofessional you're acting. Or maybe that's just me. _

He shook his head. Oh Natasha – you're rambling. Natasha silently watched as he read through her letter and waited for him to finish so that he would finally understand what she can't tell him through spoken words.

_The doctors are going crazy trying to figure out what's wrong with me. Nothing is wrong we me. I'm perfectly fine – except for the fact that my voice is gone. You'd think the smartest and brightest doctors and scientists in the world could put all their useless brain cells together and figure this out in a heartbeat right? Think again. If you look out the window you can see them congregating in the room across the hall and arguing about what can possibly be causing my voice loss. _

Clint looked up and just like she said –there was a mob of white coats arguing in the room across from them. They were shoving papers in each other's faces as they tried to solve a problem they've never came across before.

_Other than this little problem I'm fine. I know you'll ask a million times until your satisfied that my answer won't suddenly change and that somehow I'll fall to my knees saying I'm dying or something. You were always overdramatic you know? So I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine. Is that enough fines? I'm sorry I can't tell you this in person. But I'll probably be sitting beside you as you read this annoying letter that I'm getting tired of writing. You can probably already guess half the stuff I wrote – but I did it anyway. No big deal._

Clint smiled warily. She was such a liar. No one would write so carefully and neatly if they weren't so sure they wanted their thoughts to be understood properly.

_I'm running out of things to say so I'm going to end this long run on thought soon. I just thought these were some of the things you might want to know when you eventually came storming in here – like you always do. If you don't be careful Clint agents are going to start thinking you're compromised. And if it comes to the point when they start thinking _that I _am compromised? Someone is going to die. Possibly everyone involved. _

_I don't know what going to happen now. You probably don't know either. But just…just don't freak out okay? _

_Natasha Romanoff _

Clint looked up as he finished the letter and his eyes instantly connected with her wary ones.

"Thank you for explaining this to me," he said giving her a weak smile. She shrugged. He was her partner – he needed to know. He glanced at the little pile of papers peeking out from behind her. She instantly went bright red as he picked up one of the rolled up balls and started to open it. She quickly snatched the paper out of his hand and threw it out the window.

"O…kay? What was on that sheet of paper?" he asked curiously as he watched the blush creep up her neck. She frantically shook her head and crossed her arms before looking away from his curious gaze. He raised an eyebrow.

"So am allowed to assume it was a secret love letter or something?" he asked suggestively. Natasha sent him a disgusted look. He didn't think so – but it was always fun to see her funny reactions. Especially when she couldn't verbally abuse him for it.

"How about these ones…?" he said pointing at the pile under her pillow. She promptly smacked his hand away from the other scrunched up pieces of paper she had stuffed under her pillow and glared at him. He laughed and held his hands above his head.

"Okay! Okay! You can have your secret fail letters you will probably burn when you have the chance," he said shaking his head at her dramatic reactions. Then again he knew it must be hard to be forced to be this expressive when she was normally always such a closed off person. She huffed and looked away.

He waited 5 seconds before he dived under her pillow and quickly grabbed a hand full of papers before she freaked out and tried to get them back from him. He laughed as she practically strangled him trying to take the letters from his grasp. He managed to pry open one of them before she ripped half of it away. He quickly scanned the half he had left and the grin faded from his face. It wasn't a letter at all.

_Are we still partners?_

_Are we still friends? _

_Am I still on the Avengers? _

_Am I going to be kicked out of SHIELD for this?_

_Is there a cure? _

_Am I stuck like this forever? _

_If I have to leave where will I go? _

_Am I going to be on my own again? _

Natasha sat on her knees beside him as he silently finished reading the last line on the crumped sheet of paper.

"I don't know the answers to the any of these questions Tasha…expect for the last one," he said quietly as he looked up at her guarded eyes.

"Wherever you go - I'll follow. You'll never be alone," he promised curling a short strand of her hair around her ear. She stared at him with the most intense look she has ever given him. She couldn't tell him what she was thinking – but he could read it in her eyes.

_Thank you. _

**The end….or is it? **

**A/N: Would you guys like to see a longer version of this one shot? **


	2. Chapter 2

**Lost in translation **

**A/N: Continue i shall!  
**

**Chapter 2 **

Clint sighed as he walked back to Natasha's room. It has been 5 hours since he found out Natasha was at the moment silenced by some unknown cause – and the doctors were not getting anywhere anytime soon.

"Hey Tasha I got bad news. The useless medics said you have to stay for an extra-" Clint started to say but froze as he stared at her unmade bed.

_Oh shit. _

"NATASHA ROMANOFF WHERE THE HELL DID YOU GOOOOOOOO?" was heard echoing throughout the entire SHIELD base.

Fury looked up from his notes in his office on the other side of the building. He should not be able to hear _anything_ through his soundproofed walls. However he heard _that_ loud and clear through his open window. He paged Agent Hill.

"Barton is about to turn the SHIELD base upside down Sir," was the first thing she said. He sighed.

"Where did she go Hill?" he asked tiredly. It was too late in the night for this drama. Nothing happened at SHIELD without Maria Hill knowing about it. She warily glanced down at her security details.

"Not far," Hill said vaguely. She didn't know what exactly Fury was thinking about the entire situation yet. At the end of the day she always looked out for the wellbeing of her agents.

"If she wants to be alone I'm not going to stop her. Just make sure she eventually comes back periodically to let the doctors fix this problem," Fury said cautiously. Maria sighed in relief.

"Yes Sir," she said before she cut the line. She wiped Natasha's location from the system files and walked away. If agent Romanoff wanted Barton to find her she would have to contact him herself.

Meanwhile the security guard snoozing at the entrance of the medical bay suddenly woke when he felt a looming presence towering over him. He opened one eye and instantly regretted it.

"Where did she go?" Clint asked dangerously, centimeters from the poor agent's face. The security guard paled instantly.

"I-I-I" he stuttered. Clint narrowed his eyes at the bewildered agent.

"You weren't doing your job at _all_ you idiot!" Clint shouted smacking him across the face. The security agent groaned from the pain. It was 3 am! He had already dealt with 15 agents trying to sneak out of medical since midnight. If Natasha Romanoff wanted to leave – he would never have seen her anyway.

"I apologize agent Barton…" he groaned as he rubbed his sore head. Clint sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He stalked back to her room and got on his hands and knees to peak under her bed – her signature hand gun was still there.

"NATASHA I KNOW YOU'RE STILL IN THE BUILDING!" Clint shouted down the hall.

No response for obvious reasons. She didn't appear either.

He growled and took his phone out of his pocket. It was time to call for back up.

_Ring. Ring. _

_Click._

"Tony Stark – get your ass out of bed and come down here right now," he growled into the phone. He heard a distinct groan from the other end of the line.

"You know I'm a patient _too_ right? They won't let me leave!" Tony complained. He was sitting tight in the physical trauma floor since 11 pm.

"Natasha is missing," Clint said darkly. Tony paused.

"I'll be right down," he said before he hung up. Clint sighed and shut his phone.

"Why are you doing this to me Tasha?" he asked tiredly. The one good thing about this madness was that it was preventing him from continuously replaying every horrible outcome this mute problem may have. For now he just needed to find out where she was.

3 minutes later – the security alarms went off.

Clint smacked his head against the wall beside him again. He was going to lose a lot of brain cells.

"So – what do we got?" someone said from behind him. He slowly turned around and stared at a limping Tony Stark with his arm hanging from a sling and all. Clint sighed. So much for effective backup.

"She ditched medical the moment I stepped out," Clint said as he clenched his fists. He should have known she'd leave the second he turned away. No Avenger liked SHIELD medical. They almost had a vendetta against it. The faster they got out - the happier they were. But why on earth did she not tell him?

"Guess you two aren't as tight as we thought you were," Tony said looking at anything except the tense archer. Clint narrowed his eyes as medical personnel ran down the hall past the two Avengers in response to the alarms.

"If you value your life Stark…" Clint said darkly. Tony paled. The archer was _not_ in a good mood today. Figures when his partner flipped him off he'd lose it.

"Ah…right. So the silenced Russian spy is on the run. What do you want me to do about it?" Tony asked warily. Clint was about to tell him to split up when he realized the alarms were not going off.

"Before that – why are we on red alert?" Clint asked slowly. Tony rolled his eyes.

"Oh that's a false alarm – don't worry about it," Tony said waving Clint's concern away.

"How do you know that…?" Clint asked cautiously. Tony gave him a sheepish look.

Meanwhile there was a serious problem at SHIELD to consider. Everyone always thought _inside_ the box. Frankly Natasha Romanoff was one hundred times smarter than the idiots she worked for.

No one was searching for her _outside_ the building.

"YOU IDIOT HOW YOU COULD TRIP THE MOTHER OF ALL ALARMS IN THIS BASE?" a familiar voice shouted in the distance.

Natasha looked up from the little corner of the roof she was sitting on top of from where she had been silently watching the sky. What pair of idiots was having a shouting matching _at this time_? She suddenly looked very bemused when she realized where the screaming was coming from. There were only two people who would make that much noise in the SHIELD medical bay at 3 am. She was embarrassed to say they were both from her team.

She climbed over the edge of the roof and hooked her foot along the stiff gutter before she swung over the edge and hung upside down so that she could peer through the window into the hall below and watch a ton of grumpy tired SHIELD agents make their way down the hall and to their battle stations.

They were going to kill Stark when they find out it was a false alarm.

"STARK I WILL KILL YOU MYSELF!" was heard promptly following that thought.

She rolled her eyes and swung herself back up onto the roof. She took her phone out of her pocket and flipped it open to scroll down to the number she was looking for. She stared at a name for a few moments before she finally decided it was time to end the madness. She typed out a quick message.

She pressed send and waited for the inevitable response.

Clint was about to kill the damn genius when his phone beeped in his pocket. He froze in his motion to strangle the bastard. They stared at each other for a full 10 seconds.

"What's more important? Killing me or finding out if that's her?" Tony said quickly. Clint glared at him.

"You are _such_ a lucky bastard," Clint muttered as he reluctantly dropped his hands to dig the phone out of his pocket. Tony slid down the wall in relief. Clint quickly flipped his phone open to reveal a new message.

_Why are you yelling so loud that the president of this damn country will hear you?_

_- N_

Clint sighed in relief and his shoulders relaxed. This woman was going to be the death of him. Then the anger promptly took over. Tony raised an eyebrow as he read the message over Clint's shoulder and watched him angrily type back a response.

"You know there is something wrong with your relationship when this response doesn't surprise you right?" Tony said dryly.

"She is so dead," Clint muttered as he pressed send and promptly gave Stark the finger. Tony raised an eyebrow at his childish teammate.

"Shut up," Clint scowled as he looked up at him before he stomped away from the medical bay and started searching for places the Russian that made him want to scream could be.

"Good luck with the firecracker ya loony," Tony said as he rolled his eyes and limped back to his room –_this _type drama he was going sleep through.

_Where the hell are you? _

_- C_

Natasha snorted when she read his message. Over-dramatic bastard.

_Why? Do you miss me?_

_- N _

He paused on his way up a flight of stairs as he stared at her message.

"Are you joking?" he asked in disbelief. She was being _cheeky_? AT THREE AM IN THE MORNING?

He sighed in defeat. He was way too damn tired for this shit.

_No – so I can kill you slowly and intimately. _

_- C _

Natasha stared at the message for a full 10 seconds. The man was _insane_ while running on no sleep.

_That was the worst threat I have ever heard in my life Barton. Loki couldn't pull it off and neither can you. _

_- N _

Clint winced. It was true. However you can't blame him – he was exhausted and she was making him run on a wild goose chase.

_You know I could just hack your phone signal right? _

_-C _

She smiled – but he wouldn't.

_Where is the fun in that? _

_- N_

Clint scowled at his phone. It was a comical sight to watch him stalk down the hall completely ignoring all the agents around him as he glared at the tiny device in his hands. He didn't need any fancy SHIELD tracking equipment to find his own damn partner. He finally had an idea of where she was – he typed in his response and started running. He wouldn't put it past her to disappear before he got there.

_Natasha…I will find you. And when I find you I will royally kick your ass. _

_- C _

She laughed silently. As if she couldn't kick his own.

Natasha paused as she heard the metal door behind her squeak. The wind blew her hair into her face as she glance over her shoulder.

An out of breath Clint Barton was staring at her with a burning look in his eyes.

"I hate you so much," he growled with promise as he stood in front of her clenching his fist around the phone in his hand. She smiled warily and tilted her head to the side. She didn't look like she believed him one bit.

_Beep_.

He glanced down at his phone.

_Liar._

_- N _

**A/N: They have to deal with the situation eventually. But that doesn't mean this story has to be only angst. It also doesn't mean Natasha is in any way a less able agent – she lost her voice, not her solid skills. :) **


	3. Chapter 3

**Lost in Translation  
**  
**A/N: Before we begin our journey through chapter 3...who on earth thought this was a death fic? O.o She lost her voice people - she doesn't have a life threatening disease or a freaky virus (haha bad joke I know memories readers) We'll find out why she can't talk soon! Until then enjoy the Clintasha.**

**Chapter 3**

"You will _sleep_. You will recover from your injuries. And then we will work through this problem together – okay?" Clint said glaring down at the obviously quiet Russian spy sitting on her bed after being dragged back to her room. She glared back at him.

"Don't give me that pissed face! It's 4 am and I'm _tired_ Natasha! Please? Go to sleep," he pleaded finally running out of the anger that was the only thing that had been keeping him awake for the last hour. Natasha shot him a fuming look before she finally relented and fell down on her bed. However she continued to glare at him from her place lying on the uncomfortable rock.

"Do you sleep with your eyes open or something?" he asked warily. She gave him a look of disbelief.

"Valid question," he said with a shrug. She gave him the finger and angrily turned away from him with a huff. Clint sighed at her irritation and pulled up a chair to sit beside her. He was lucky she cared about his opinion enough to stay. If Natasha Romanoff really wanted to get the hell out of here – she would have no trouble getting past Fury the _master_ spy – let alone her exhausted half dead partner.

"You know Tasha…I was scared shitless when I pulled you out of the rubble after the explosion that took out the building we were in. You were barely breathing – we almost thought we lost you several times," he said quietly as he stared at her tense back. She was definitely listening – she had no choice.

"Were you scared while you were unconscious?" he asked quietly. Natasha froze and he noticed she had stopped breathing. She finally turned around and stared at him dead in the eye. She promptly shook her head in the negative. He smiled weakly.

"Who's the liar now?" he asked with a soft chuckle. She went bright red and growled silently. She was _not_ lying! How can someone be scared when they were unconscious?

She gestured towards his hand. He gave her a confused look.

"What do you want Natasha?" he asked in confusion. She insistently pointed at his hand. He furrowed his brow and he held his right hand out to her. She grabbed it in her own smaller ones and then promptly used his own hand to slap himself across the face.

Clint gaped at her.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?" he shouted in shock as he held his bright red cheek in pain. She narrowed her eyes and promptly picked up her notepad and scribbled something angrily onto it.

'_You're pansy worrying is giving me a headache – you deserve one too,' _she wrote across the page. He stared down at the words in disbelief.

"You are one crazy woman Natasha," he muttered as he leaned back against his chair in exhaustion. Now even his face hurt like hell just like the rest of his body. She furrowed her brow when he still continued to hold his cheek in silence without even getting that irritated at her. Why wasn't he being angry at her like normal?

Natasha didn't want to consider the reality that Clint might be blaming her voice loss on himself and now as a result was taking her shit without complaint. Now was something Natasha Romanoff could _not_ allow. He was _never_ supposed to take her shit.

Clint suddenly found an ice pack being held against his cheek. He looked up at the wary Russian spy holding the bag of ice for him while she looked anywhere but at him. His eyes soften when he saw the slight regret in her eyes as she stared at the wall in front of her.

"It's okay," he whispered. The light scowl on her face told him she wasn't apologizing at all. But he forgave her anyway.

He watched the scowl slowly be replaced by a hesitant look.

"What's wrong Tasha?" he asked worriedly. She pulled back her hand with the ice pack and tried to hold back a wince – but he knew her well enough to know when she was in serious pain.

"Tasha…you are starting to scare me…" he said slowly. She glanced down at her waist and at the dark red colour seeping through her shirt. Clint froze as he noticed the red blotch too.

"Oh my god you pulled your stitches _again_? Why do you move around so much woman?" he asked in disbelief. She huffed – she didn't move _that_ much. He glared at her dismissal look.

"What do you mean this is not _your_ fault? Who was the one who went gallivanting across the roof right after a serious accident?" he asked incredulously. She glared at him. He glared back.

"Pull up your shirt and let me see what the hell you did," he said angrily. Natasha paled ever so slightly– Clint froze at her peculiar reaction. _Oh my god…_

"Don't you _dare_ let your mind go in the gutter Natasha Romanoff!" he growled. A bright pink blush started creeping up her neck – too late, her mind had already left innocent-ville. He groaned as he dropped his head on her bed.

"You're killing me – seriously you are," he muttered into her sheets. Natasha tried to beat down the monster blush as she grabbed the towel sitting on the table beside her and used it to try and stop the rapid bleeding. Clint realized a second later she was going to bleed to death if they didn't re-bandage her wounds. His head shot up and he gave her a sharp look.

"Alright that's it! Gutter mind or no gutter mind we are going to change your damn bandages," he muttered as he opened the draw beside him and pulled out a bunch of medical supplies. She raised an eyebrow and gestured to the emergency button beside her. He snorted.

"Natasha – if I call the nurses will you make them cry again?" he asked point-blank. Natasha scowled at him. Those pansy nurses had it coming! It wasn't her fault they couldn't keep their tear ducts under control!

"I'm going to take you disgusted and unimpressed look as a yes – so no I won't call the damn nurses for you to death glare at and cackle when they burst into tears. I can change damn bandages will my eyes closed," he said firmly. She rolled her eyes and watched his dampen a cloth with alcohol – oh damn that was going to burn.

"Pull up your shirt before you bleed to death Natasha," he said tiredly. Natasha sighed as she dragged up her shirt to reveal her ruined bandages wrapped around her waist. Clint shook his head – crazy girl. He started wiping away the blood before he would replace her old bandages with news ones. He paused as he stared at the jagged lines running zigzag across her stomach. They were faded deep knife wounds. Years old but still there.

"You're scars are always in the weirdest places Tasha…" he said quietly. She tensed and looked away. He slowly unwrapped her ruined dressings.

"I still don't know the stories behind most of them," he said softly. She sighed. She didn't want to know them either.

"Will you tell me one day after you get your voice back?" he asked looking up at her cautious eyes. He was too confident that she was going to recover from this incident. She wasn't as optimistic. But either way she still nodded slowly at his question. If she couldn't tell her partner who could she tell?

He smiled softly at her.

"Thank you," he said quietly as he slowly re-bandaged her wound. She never told him he was the only one who she ever let fix her without complaint. Every other person, doctor or nurse always came out of that experience a little scarred themselves.

10 minutes later Natasha was no longer bleeding to death and somehow the conversation had drifted into a strange silence mostly because it's been a one sided conversation since they've been together after their failed mission. Clint was so tired he was basically falling asleep right beside her.

Natasha stared at the uncomfortable archer resting his forehead in his arms against the edge of the gigantic SHIELD medical bed. As if it was fair that she was forced to sleep on this monster while he got the uncomfortable chair. She'd rather have the _chair_ then be the damn patient. She promptly poked him in the shoulder and roused him from his uncomfortable nap.

"What's wrong Natasha?" he asked rubbing the sleep from his eyes. She gave him a second to wake up before she roughly grabbed him by the scruff of his uniform and dragged him onto the bed. Clint nearly fell on his face in shock.

"Natasha what the hec-sdkfjlsfsdlk!" he mumbled against her hand as she promptly covered his mouth in the universal gesture of _stop talking._ He took a deep breath and stopped trying to speak against her warm hand. She firmly shoved him down on the bed and fell down beside him. Clint held his breath as they lay next to each other staring up at the white tiled ceiling of the dimly light patient room.

"One day you are going to give me a heart attack Natasha," he said turning to look at her. She shrugged beside him without looking at his curious questioning gaze. He continued to stare at her silently as she seemed lost in her own thoughts.

"What are you thinking about Tasha?" he asked quietly after a few minutes of silence. She glanced down at her hands and curled them into tight fists. She wasn't thinking about anything pleasant.

"Does it have to do with the mission?" he asked quietly. She shook her head without looking at him.

"Your voice loss?" he tried again. She shook her head again. He furrowed his brow – what else could be bothering her?

She finally sighed and turned to stare at him dead in the eye.

'_You_,' she mouthed to him. He froze.

"Natasha-" she promptly covered his mouth again and closed her eyes. He stared at her tired expression and sighed. Even though she was obviously trying to avoid any type of conversation that included _feelings_ he knew she should be resting now anyway.

"Finally want to go to sleep huh?" he said before he leaned back on her pillow. She snorted. As if she really had a choice. Clint didn't particularly want to be the first to fall asleep – but he was so exhausted that the moment he shut his eyes he was out like a light.

Natasha watched his breath even out and waited until she was sure he was sleeping. She then gently brushed the stray bangs out of his eyes and curled them around his ear. He looked so much more peaceful when he was sleeping – during the day he was always so stressed. She winced – she was the number one cause of his extreme stress. She always told him to calm down and stop worrying about her – but he never listened. She missed the slight twitch of his mouth as she turned back to her side of the bed and tried to take a short nap before their hectic day started tomorrow.

Several hours later Clint groaned as he buried his head deeper into the itchy SHIELD medical blankets he was lying on. He knew Natasha would kill him if he rolled over and accidentally squished her in his sleep. So he was beyond shocked when he felt a warm body lean over him. He opened his eyes and got a face full of Natasha's black widow mission belt. That was odd…why was she wearing that all of a sudden?

She stared down at his open eyes and he raised an eyebrow. She wagged her own eyebrows at him before she promptly messed up his dark hair and jumped off the bed. He gave her actions a confused look until he realized…he couldn't move his right hand. He stared at her in shock as she slowly walked backwards away from him. She gave him a small wave before she promptly climbed out the window.

"YOU HANDCUFFED ME TO YOUR OWN FREAKING BED ROMANOFF?" Clint shouted at the top of his lungs as he stared at the open window beside him. A smirking Natasha started climbing down the side of the building – she had ditched him for a reason. She was going to accomplish her original mission whether he liked it or not. He would have to chill in her room until she came back.

Meanwhile Maria Hill was not snoozing on the job. She was definitely not lying on her desk practically drooling. She was no way in hell dreaming of a well-deserved trip to the Bahamas...

Oh who was she kidding? It was freaking 7 am and she never _left_ work let alone come in early! The Avengers were still in the building and until they were healthy and _gone_ it would be insanity to leave them here unattended. And so here she lay on her uncomfortable desk.

Her phone suddenly rang beside her ear and caused her to jump into alertness.

"I'm awake!" she shouted grabbing her chest in shock as she took in several deep breaths. _That_ was one way to wake her up.

She glanced down at the caller ID and furrowed her brow in confusion…that was a number she didn't expect to hear from for at least the next little while.

"Hello…?" she answered slowly. There was a long pause at the other end of the line. And then suddenly Maria heard a series of taps that instantly made her groan. Oh dear god it was too early in the damn morning to be dealing with this shit.

"Morose code… Are you _serious_ Agent Romanoff?" Maria said in disbelief. Natasha smiled slowly at the other end of the line. She always knew Agent Hill was smarter than most of the idiots that haunted the halls of the SHIELD base.

"You do know that I can receive text messages right…?" Maria asked blankly. Natasha repeatedly tapped the wall again in a distinct manner. Maria groaned and leaned her head back against her desk. These agents were too much – especially the ones on the Avengers team.

"Natasha we are not in a freaking war zone – no one is likely to hack my phone anytime soon. Especially considering how it's one of the most secure lines in the world," Maria said slowly.

Natasha silently tapped the wall again and stared at the word she had spelled out against the cold surface.

"Bar…ton…Wait you don't want _Barton_ to know?" Maria asked slowly. Natasha leaned her forehead against the wall. Maria heard another round of quiet taps and furrowed her brow as she muddled through the meaning.

"Co..ming. Oh come on! Why are you ditching medical for the second time in a row Natasha? Clint is going to absolutely murder-" she started to say but Natasha had hanged up before Maria could finish her rant.

Natasha quickly shoved her phone into her pocket and leaned against the wall on the outside of the SHIELD base as she slowly inched across the tight ledge that ran along the edge of the building. If she fell she was would be dead before she hit the ground. It was a long 3 stories fall. Barton would kill her if he found out – well considering the colourful swearing she could hear from behind her he was already planning on it. Oh well – the adrenaline rush always got her through the worst of situations – now would be no different.

Natasha smirked as she finally found the window she had been searching for been. She instantly froze as she felt the weak cement she was standing on give beneath her foot and quickly started falling down the side of the building. She frantically grabbed onto the edge of the window and banged into the wall painfully.

Too bad she couldn't scream for help.

Natasha winced as the burn started building up in her arms. She glanced up at the window in front of her. Well…she did enough acrobatics in her training in the Red Room program to be able to pull this off…right? She felt her fingers start slipping and glanced at the dark metal barb wire running along the wall several meter below her feet. _That_ would a bitch to fall on. It would probably slice her into Swiss cheese. She gritted her teeth and took a deep breath. Hopefully she'll survive to be threatened within an inch of her life by Barton another day.

Well here goes everything.

Maria froze as the only window in her office shattered into a million pieces as a familiar redhead crashed right through it and fell into the room. She quickly got up and stared at the mess that covered her hard floor and the crazy woman in the middle of it all.

Natasha Romanoff was lying on floor breathing in shallow frantic breaths as she stared up at the Maria Hill's ceiling. Wow. She did _not_ expect that to work.

"ARE YOU CRAZY ROMANOFF?" Maria shrieked as she stared down at the agent covered in glass. Natasha promptly nodded gravely. That was probably the only reason she was alive. She winced as she pushed herself into a sitting position and brushed the pieces of glass shards off her uniform.

"Are you _okay_?" Maria asked suddenly switching to sounding very worried. Natasha waved her worry away with her hand. As if a little glass was going to hurt her. She picked herself off the floor and gave her boss a casual nod in good morning like there was nothing wrong with her unusual entrance. She glanced at the broken window and grimaced. She'll pay for that later.

Maria continued to stare at the crazy Russian in front of her.

"Has anyone ever told you, you scare the crap out of your comrades more than your enemies?" Maria asked slowly. Natasha coughed into her hand. Oh yeah – Clint tells her that every day.

"Why are you here Natasha?" Maria asked with a sigh. The faster she found out why she was being stalked by a Russian spy the faster she could send her back to medical and not have to deal with the impending drama that always followed in Natasha's wake.

When she said drama she really meant Clint damn Barton and his constant anger at his deadly partner. She _really_ didn't want to know what Natasha did to him this time to delay his inevitable arrival.

Natasha promptly pointed to Maria's computer with a serious expression – so she really was here for business.

"Is there something you want to show me?" Maria asked as she slowly walked over and typed in her password. Natasha stepped out of the circle of glass and walk behind Maria's desk to give her computer screen a quizzing look. She pointed to the keyboard and asked her boss for permission with her eyes. Maria furrowed her brow but passed her the keyboard anyway. Natasha quickly zoomed through several folders on her screen, bypassed several codes she wasn't supposed to know and pulled up a file that was highly classified – as in no agent was supposed to know classified. Especially not the person that file concerned.

"You know I'm going to ask how you knew how to do that right?" Maria asked dryly. Natasha shrugged – it wasn't that important at the moment. She insistently pointed at the flashing red behind her own personal SHIELD file.

Maria sighed. Natasha was one of the agents that always kept her on her toes. If all her agents were as good as this Russian she would have resigned years ago.

"What do you want to know Natasha?" Maria asked tiredly. Natasha highlighted the most alarming line in the file and glared at Maria accusingly.

'_Level of_ _danger to team and pending status on Avengers'- waiting on council decision. _

Maria groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. Damn her excellent spy skills.

"Are you here to ask why your accident has gone to the council or why I haven't told you yet?" Maria asked already knowing the answer. Natasha held up two fingers to signify the second option and continued to glare at her boss.

"It's been 5 hours since you've been back from your mission Natasha. You are just too _fast_ – I haven't even had time to properly debrief you all on your mission. On top of that you were and still are supposed to be in freaking medical recovering from your other injures. How many stiches did you pull after crashing through my window?" Maria asked narrowing her eyes. Natasha suddenly looked guilty and glanced down at the red spot on her hip.

She slowly held up 3 fingers. Maria narrowed her eyes.

"Get your ass back to medical before I drag you back or call Barton to do it," Maria said pointing to her door angrily. Natasha sighed – she had one more question left. She grabbed a pen off Maria's table and quickly scribbled down her question on a scrap piece of paper. Maria stared at the note.

'_Am I contagious?' _was all the note said. She had the strange feeling that was truly the only important thing Natasha wanted to know.

"Natasha…if I told you were contagious…what would you do?" Maria said slowly. Natasha stared at her dead in the eye and promptly looked out the window.

Well that wasn't reassuring at _all_.

"He would just chase you down wherever you went you know that right?" Maria said with a sigh. Natasha clenched her fists. She knew that alright. It was downright _annoying_…but somewhere deep, deep, deep down (_very_ deep) she was the slightest bit touched that there was at least one person in the world who even remotely cared enough to try.

But as if they could _ever_ find her if she chose to disappear. She never stopped to consider the fact that Clint was much more than a slightly hotheaded archer who took too many risks and freaked out too much like a hypocrite when she took some herself. At the end of the day with his level of intelligence and solid field skills he just might be the only one to ever come close to being her equal.

She would still beat his ass though.

"Natasha you lost a physical ability – you're not dying," Maria said slowly. Natasha still didn't look convinced. Maria sighed.

"Is blindness contagious?" Maria said trying to convince her. Natasha paused and thought about it – she opened her mouth but Maria beat her to it.

"If you dare bring magic and aliens into our conversation I will slap you," she said firmly. Natasha snorted – it was still valid.

"Don't be a smart ass Natasha – I can kick your ass to kingdom come. And if that doesn't work – I'll stick your ass in _probation_ – AKA no missions," Maria said narrowing her eyes. Natasha narrowed her own. If Clint was still going to go on missions like hell she was staying behind.

They both heard angry shouting from the floor above them.

"WHAT DO YOU _MEAN_ YOU DON'T HAVE ANY METAL CUTTERS? THIS IS AN INTELLIGENCE ORGANIZATION THAT DEALS WITH HULKS, AND DEMIGODS AND FUCKING ALIENS! THERE HAS TO BE _SOMETHING_ YOU USE TO RESTRAIN THESE IDIOTS!" was heard loud and clear through the thick cement.

"Barton is going to have a heart attack one day because of you - you know that right?" Maria said slowly. Natasha sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. That man was _impossible_.

Natasha suddenly covered one of her eyes and gave Maria one of the most fake dirty looks she ever used. She tilted her head to the side and tapped her head slowly. Maria furrowed her brow at Natasha's actions.

"Who are you trying to imitat- wait _that's_ your impersonation of Fury?" Maria asked incredulously. Natasha shrugged. Hill understood the reference didn't she?

"What are you asking?" she asked slowly. Natasha pointed to her throat and raised her hands in question.

"Oh. What he thinks about your situation? That's classified information at the moment…" Maria said slowly. Natasha gave her a bored look and promptly aimed her gun at her computer. Maria paled.

"You wouldn't _dare_ – I have months of work on there," Maria hissed.

Natasha yawned. As if _she_ cared.

"You shoot my computer and I'll damn well make your life _and_ Barton's life miserable," Maria said threateningly.

Natasha gritted her teeth and took a deep breath. Oh dear god she can't believe she was about to do the unimaginable. She steeled herself for the heavy loss of dignity.

'_Please,'_ she mouthed.

Maria blinked.

She blinked again.

She has never heard that word come from Natasha Romanoff's mouth. Considering the fact that Natasha didn't actually use her voice to say it meant her record was technically still clean.

"Man you _are_ desperate," she said in shock. Natasha scowled at her. Maria sighed – stubborn Russian.

"Fury isn't going to kick you out of SHIELD no matter what the council says Natasha. Unless you suddenly go psycho you're staying on the Avengers okay? Now get out of my office!" Maria said pointing to her door. Natasha gave her irritated eyes a suspicious look. Maria never wavered. Natasha finally seemed to be convinced she was telling the truth and her shoulders relaxed. That was all she wanted to know. Natasha promptly spun around and stalked out the door – _now_ she could sleep in peace.

She walked down the quiet SHIELD hall on her way back to the dreaded medical bay and suddenly bumped into the warm solid frame of familiar figure as she rounded the corner.

_Click_. She stared down at her wrist and saw familiar handcuffs wrapped tightly around her small hand. She looked up at the angry eyes of her scorned partner. He slowly raised their handcuffed hands between them and threw the damn key out the window. She didn't even flinch.

"Now you're really stuck with me – understood?" he growled quietly. She stared back at his dark serious eyes with guarded ones of her own. She was always stuck with him – she didn't need handcuffs to know Barton was always just one step behind her.

Like he said – wherever she went he would follow. The real question was – would she do the same?

**A/N: Oh Clint – using her own handcuffs against her. Such a hot badass move! But do you really think a pair of handcuffs is enough to keep Natasha Romanoff around? **

**Review and let me know if you would like more action or fluff next chapter!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Lost in translation **

**A/N: Alright so a little bit of everything was what you guys wanted – so action/fluff/humor/romance it shall be! Because obviously Clintasha is a mix of all this madness. **

**Chapter 4 **

Fury rounded the corner on his way to find his right hand man and probably catch her napping in her office. He froze as he caught sight of something down the nearly empty hall he was about to pass. Oh dear god the drama never ceased.

"Barton…_why_ are you handcuffed to Romanoff?" Fury asked slowly. Clint sighed as Natasha looked anywhere except at her boss. She would have no part in this.

"Because apparently I keep losing her Fury," Clint said honestly. Natasha scowled beside him. Fury raised an eyebrow and glanced at the only Russian spy at SHIELD.

"I see you're playing along for now right?" Fury said in amusement. Natasha shrugged – there wasn't any reason not to humor her partner for the moment. It wasn't like she couldn't get away from him if she actually wanted to. Clint rolled his eyes.

"At least if she is attached to my arm I'll know when she disappears," he said with a shrug. He had lost his dignity a long time ago – probably the 100th time he had to chase after this damn Russian. Now he would stoop to any level to keep her in one place for at least the time being. Fury coughed into his hand.

"...Really? Is that so Barton?" Fury said trying to hold back his laughter. Clint paused as the harsh truth of what just happened started creeping up on him and looked to his left. The handcuffs were hanging with an empty hook where Natasha should have been. He had a painful look on his face.

"Director…can I kill her like I was originally supposed to?" Clint asked slowly but with an air of seriousness that only a desperate man would have. Fury promptly snorted. The bastard was so _whipped_.

"Nope. You choose to bring her in. Now you're going to have to deal with the consequences…likely for the rest of your life," Fury said with a bit too much glee. That's what you _get_ for disobeying orders!

"It's like being freaking _married_," Clint muttered as he angrily stalked down the hall. Fury shook his head.

"No Barton – you two are _way_ passed married," Fury said gravely as he watched one of his best agents continue his search to track down his partner once again. "Honestly…that man spends half his time running after villains and the other half running after the same goddamn Russian spy," Fury said gravely. It was pathetic.

Clint sighed in defeat as he slid down a wall beside the SHIELD cafeteria. He gave up! Natasha was just not controllable. He was also being too hard on her – she eventually comes back on her own anyway. He glanced down at his handcuffs to take them off and froze. He stared at the hand attached to the other end in shock. He looked up at the innocent looking Russian sitting beside him sipping a steaming cup of coffee and watching his shock in amusement.

"This is _not_ funny Natasha," Clint said shaking his head in disbelief.

She shrugged and showed him the fresh coffee in her hand. She was thirsty and he was taking too long. He paused. It was too tempting. He utterly failed at self-control.

"I'll forgive you if you give me some of your coffee," Clint said staring at the hot beverage from heaven. He was dying from exhaustion and needed caffeine. Natasha raised an eyebrow and slowly passed him the warm cup. He took a big gulp and sighed in relief. He looked loads calmer.

_Ding_. Natasha had an idea. If she drugged him on caffeine maybe he would finally calm down and stop freaking out every time she disappeared or took a risk. She took one look and the stress line still firmly set on his forehead even as he seemed calm enough at the moment.

Yeah never mind she wasn't _that_ optimistic.

Suddenly the SHIELD intercom turned on and all the agents paused to hear the base wide announcement.

"AGENT BARTON YOU BETTER FIND YOUR DAMN PARTNER AND GET HER ASS BACK TO MEDICAL BECAUSE THE DOCTORS HAVE TO FINISH HER CHECK UP! IF YOU BOTH ARE NOT THERE IN 3 MINUTES YOU ARE _FIRED_ FOR FRATERNIZATION AND WILL BE BLACKLISTED!" Maria Hill shouted over the SHIELD intercom. Her voice echoed down every single hall in the building.

Everyone walking down the hall raised an eyebrow at the two handcuffed agents being addressed sitting on the floor. Natasha rolled her eyes at the dramatic message while Clint suddenly turned bright red at all the knowing looks everyone was sending them. Oh _shit_ he did not think the handcuffs idea through properly. Natasha glance at her mortified partner and shook her head. She picked herself off the ground and dragged him to his feet by their handcuffed hands and pulled him down the hall. Poor agent was traumatized – it was his own damn fault though so she didn't feel _that_ bad.

"This was one of my less brilliant ideas…" Clint mumbled staring at their handcuffed hands. She snorted beside him as they weaved through the many SHIELD halls and made their way towards the Medical bay. No point in getting fired for something as boring as skipping a medical checkup. If Natasha Romanoff was ever going to get fired – it was going to be because of something explosive and damn flashy. That or for inducing the heart attack that will inevitably kill Clint Barton. The second option way more likely that she would like.

A stone faced doctor was standing in front of Medical the second Natasha and Clint rounded the corner. Natasha groaned. It was Doctor Johansson. Oh _shit_ she was going to get it now.

"_Romanoff_," Johansson said dangerously. Natasha glared daggers at her SHIELD assigned doctor. 7 _years_ they've know each other – and they still hated each other's guts. Clint glanced back and forth between the glaring agents.

"You know girls…I'm still here," Clint said warily from behind Natasha. The staring contest continued without any acknowledgement to the disregarded archer.

"Every time Romanoff – every single god damn time you come into my medical bay you cause a riot – mostly because of your hotheaded partner and the rest of your damn insane team. But you are no less destructive yourself," Johansson said narrowing her eyes. Clint gaped – he was so _insulted_.

"Hey that is just-" he instantly had two pairs of equally threatening eyes drilling into him. He gulped.

"Sorry. Carry on," he muttered looking away. He never understood SHIELD woman and their tendency to always be at each other's throats but when a man came along they always joined forces to beat the shit out of him. Johansson paused and finally noticed the metal joining the two partners together. Oh my _god_.

"Do I even _want_ to know about the handcuffs…?" she asked in disgust. Natasha and Clint both went bright red.

"Neh….." was the only response she got. Doctor Johansson shook her head and pointed them into an examination room. Kinky bastards.

"Whatever. Both of you sit down over there while I get set up," she mumbled as she closed the door behind her and pulled out her notes and her examination tools. Natasha took a seat on the medical bed and Clint quietly sat down beside her. No one in the room pointed out the fact the handcuffs were more novelty than anything else. It was honestly a joke.

"Where did you go Tasha?" he asked quietly staring at their hands.

She paused as she tried to figure out how she was going to explain that one to him. She pulled up her hands and made little devil ears over her head. She then made a really blank face and pretended to type on a tablet. And then finally she put her left hand on her hip and shook her finger in front of her like she was scolding someone.

Clint burst out laughing and nearly dragged them both to the ground because of the handcuffs. She smiled warily at his laughter. It was nice to see him loosen up a bit. He was always too serious when things go really wrong. Usually it was his job to make her lighten up. She never thought she would have to do the same for him.

Doctor Johansson turned around and stared at the most peculiar pair of agents she has ever met.

"Oh my god that was the best impersonation of Maria Hill I ever saw," Clint gasped leaning on his knees. Natasha rolled her eyes. He was having too much fun.

"I'm going to guess that you already figured out your general diagnostic Romanoff. Hill called. She probably told you about your non contagious status," Doctor Johansson said taking out a small flashlight and walking up to Natasha. Clint sighed in relief beside her. No one wanted to find out her voice loss was connected to an even bigger problem.

"May I?" Johansson asked holding up the flashlight. Natasha nodded warily. She flashed the bright light in her right eye.

"Follow the light with your eyes," she instructed. Natasha snorted at the stupid test but for once obeyed the simple command. Doctor Johansson nodded and put the light down before walking Natasha through a few more tests.

"Alright you two – I need her to stand on a weight…and unless you've somehow got hit with a merging mutation gun you got to remove the cuffs," Johansson said warily. Clint grumbled about how it wasn't going to work anyway and pulled a key out of his pocket. Natasha stared at the key in disbelief- the sneak didn't throw it out the window at all! The bastard. He unlocked the cuffs and let Natasha stand on the weight while the Doc continued her tests.

"You know we're working on figuring out why your vocal cords are not working – but as of right now we are not coming up with any possible causes," Johansson said as she gestured for Natasha to sit back down beside her partner. Natasha nodded slowly.

"What does that mean for her right now?" Clint asked carefully. Johansson pulled up her notes and sighed.

"Well aside from this little problem she is going to be completely fine – as usual. But we need her to come in a couple more times to continue testing. Other than that you're going to be discharged today Romanoff. Bet that made your day didn't it?" Johansson said warily. Natasha scowled at her doctor. However the relief in her eyes was impossible to hide.

"So…can we go home now?" Clint asked slowly. He didn't really know if her diagnostic was a good thing or a very bad sign.

"Yeah, you can go home – but please do us all a favor. _Take Stark with you_," she said gravely. They all froze as they heard a gigantic crash from down the hall.

"I WILL ESCAPE THIS PRISON IF IT IS THE LAST THING I DOOOOOOOOOOOO!" they heard a familiar voice scream right on cue. Doctor Johansson groaned and covered her face with her notes.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

"NOOO I'VE BEEN HIT-ALKSJDFALSKFJDSAFLKSJF!" Tony groaned. They watched him crash to the floor through the window as the sedative took effect. Natasha and Clint glanced at each other.

"It's a sad day when we're the ones who take _that_ home isn't it?" he said with a wince. Natasha nodded grimly. Sad indeed.

_20 minutes later. _

Steve Rogers stood in front of the SHIELD base entrance as he leaned against his car and raised an eyebrow as he watched two SHIELD agents drag an unconscious genius out the door.

"They released him from Medical – _after_ drugging him?" he asked warily. Clint rolled his eyes.

"They shot him with a sedative when he tried to escape. If the bastard had just kept it together for another 10 minutes he would have been able to walk himself out the door instead of us doing the labor," he muttered as Steve swiftly opened the back door and helped them dump the limp body into the car.

"I feel like a mobster kidnapping a high profile billionaire," Steve said shaking his head. Natasha snorted. At least if they were kidnapping him they'd get some good money out of it. This? This was just plain sad.

"You don't have the face or the personality to be a mobster Steve," Clint said as he reached over the backseat to belt the genius into the car. Steve scoffed.

"What and _you_ do?" he asked in disbelief. Natasha and Clint gave the Cap a long look. Clint Barton _oozed_ badassness. He was a professional assassin for crying out loud. Once upon he was on the wrong side himself. He didn't like to broadcast that little detail though. Steve paused.

"Forget I asked," he said with a sigh. His team was made up of crazies. Honest to god insane people. He turned to the silent Russian standing beside him.

"Hey Natasha," Steve said giving her a slight nod. She nodded back.

"Everything okay except for…ah the no talking thing?" he asked awkwardly. She sighed and nodded again – there was really not much else to say.

"Ask her how many times she pulled her own damn stitches today," Clint called over his shoulder as he clicked the belt into place. Steve raised an eyebrow as Natasha suddenly looked very guilty.

"More than once?" he asked in shock. She coughed into her hand and held up 2 fingers.

"Really Natasha – you're worse than Stark sometimes…" Steve said warily. Natasha's mouth hit the floor.

"I know, I said - but it takes him at least one day to pull his own stitches. You did it twice in less than 8 hours. Bravo. Now get in the car," he said pointing to the open door. She stared at him for a full 5 seconds and twitched. She huffed before she promptly spun around and stalked down the street. Clint poked his head out of the car and stared after her in shock.

"Where the hell is _she_ going?" Clint asked in disbelief. Steve paused – okay maybe he should not have compared the volatile Russian to Tony Stark of all people.

"Ah…probably walking home?" he said warily.

"How far is Avengers Tower from here anyway?" Clint asked incredulously. Steve furrowed his brow as he tried to remember how long it took him to make his way to the tower after his car broke down one day.

"Ah…40 minute walk?" Steve said hesitantly. Clint froze.

"Oh hell no – NATASHA GET BACK HERE!" Clint shouted as he ran after his pissed partner. Steve glanced back at the unconscious Stark in his car.

"Not a kidnapping mobster eh…?" he said with a weird look in his eyes. Oh dear god no.

_45 minutes later. _

"You're killing me Natasha," Clint groaned as he dragged himself into the tower. His legs burned like hell – he still had really bad burns running up and down his limbs from the mission. Natasha shot him an irritated look. She didn't tell him to follow her – he could have taken the car if he wanted to. Clint sighed in relief as they walked into the building – his dramatics were over. He wanted to freaking sleep in his own bed now.

They slowly made their way into the elevator and Clint pressed the number for the Avengers floor. They walked out and glanced around.

"Did you see where Steve and Tony went?" he asked slowly as they made their way into the empty Avengers common room. She slowly shook her head. They should have been here half an hour ago.

Natasha paused as she heard a barely audible sobbing come from behind them. She slowly tugged on Clint's sleeve and pointed to the closed door at the end of the hall. They shared a suspicious look as they slowly approached the door. Natasha took out her gun and for once Clint did the same. Clint quietly counted to three while locking eyes with his partner.

They burst into the room, ready for any type of situation imaginable – except the one they were faced with. They both nearly dropped their guns in shock.

Bruce Banner and Steve Rogers were sitting in front of a table with a laptop on it and laughing until tears came out of their eyes. They had matching headphones on their heads and barely noticed Clint and Natasha's arrival.

"Bruce…what on earth are you two doing?" Clint asked slowly. Bruce was still laughing like crazy but managed to look up from his computer and took the large headphones off his head.

"Interrogation," he gasped. Natasha sighed and dropped her hand with the gun in it. Oh dear god they were being idiots.

"Interrogating what?" Clint asked cautiously. They slowly looked at the one way glass window separating them and another room where a masked Thor was threatening a poorly disguised Tony Stark. All he had was a horrible black wig attached to his head and was dressed in a store bought ninja costume.

"HOW DARE YOU KIDNAP TONY STARK?" Thor's voice boomed across the glass. Natasha and Clint both stared at the insanity in shock.

"I _AM_ TONY STARK!" Tony shouted for the hundredth time.

"DO NOT LIE TO ME UNKNOWN MAN!" Thor roared angrily. Thor by nature did not partake in dishonorable pranks…however Clint had the feeling he didn't quite know who he was interrogating. Steve and Bruce continued to sob tears of laughter uncontrollably. Natasha repeatedly banged her head against the wall beside her. Clint patted her on the back – they were surrounded by insanity.

"It's alright Natasha – you don't have to watch," Clint said as he fought back his own laughter. This was obviously revenge for all those times when Tony pissed the entire team off and played horrible jokes on them.

Pay back was sweet.

"Are we going to break for lunch?" Steve asked Bruce still dying on the table. Bruce wiped the tears from his eyes.

"Do we let them know the truth?" Bruce asked calming down. Natasha turned around and stared at the most unlikely pair of pranksters that ever lived.

Tony Stark had broken the Avengers.

"Sure – get ready to run," Steve said as he pressed and button on the computer and brought a small mike close to his mouth.

"Thor…that _is_ Tony Stark," he said with a straight face – they didn't know how he did. Everyone froze.

"Run," Bruce whispered. The Cap and the doctor both bolted out the door.

"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?" Thor and Tony shouted at the same time. Natasha and Clint paled at they stood beside the incriminating evidence. Natasha promptly grabbed Clint by his collar and dragged him out the door. The man had to learn what battles to fight and which to run away from.

Hawkeye and the Black Widow were back home and it was already madness.

Later that evening after Thor and Tony threatened Steve and Bruce within an inch of their lives 5 Avengers sat at the kitchen table trying to figure out what to do about their current team problem.

"The doctors are saying they don't know what's wrong," Clint said cautiously. Bruce furrowed his brow as they mulled over what they were going to do.

"If they don't even have a clue yet why did they release her? Usually you monitor a problem like this for a few days," Bruce said in confusion. Tony and Clint shared a wary look.

"Bruce…SHIELD can only handle Natasha Romanoff in their Medical bay for only so long. 12 hours was already pushing it," Tony said gravely. Bruce rolled his eyes.

"Fine – so they prematurely kicked her out. That doesn't mean we can just sit back and do nothing right now," Bruce said firmly. They all nodded.

"I think the only thing we have to worry about is how we're going to be able to understand her – especially during missions," Clint said with a wince. That was going to be a pain to get around.

"Is she still allowed on missions?" Thor asked slowly. Clint gave him a sharp look.

"Why wouldn't she be?" he asked tightly.

"It's not us Clint – it's SHIELD who controls stuff like that," Steve said cautiously. Clint sighed and slumped into his chair.

"I don't know. Anything can happen at the moment," he said staring at the wall beside him.

"Where is Natasha anyway?" Bruce asked glancing around. Clint sighed and leaned his forehead against the kitchen table.

"In her room," he mumbled into his arms. They all shared a wary look over his head.

"Why is she in her room? It's only...ONE AM? What the heck?" Tony shouted as he stared at his watching accusingly. They all stared at the kitchen clock - he was right. It was late.

"I say we regroup tomorrow at a saner hour and figure things out from there," Steve said looking around at the suddenly very tired looking Avengers.

"Agreed," they all said together.

"Good night fellow comrades," Thor said with a nod before he headed out of the kitchen.

"Right so…. bye guys!" Tony said standing up and bolting out the door himself. Bruce and Steve shared a wary look.

"The man never sleeps," Bruce muttered shaking his head. Steve looked at the suddenly very quiet archer.

"Are you going to go check on her?" he asked knowingly. Clint nodded and got out of his seat.

"Yeah – see you tomorrow guys," he said as he walked off with an odd look on his face.

"He's more worried than he lets on you know?" Bruce said quietly to the Captain standing beside him.

"Yeah I could tell. Don't let the others treat her any different than normal okay? She doesn't need to feel any more disconnected then she already will," Steve said as they watched the archer round the corner and disappear.

"Don't worry - she's stronger then she looks," Bruce said firmly. Steve nodded.

"I know – but everyone has a breaking point Bruce. What is theirs?" he asked quietly before he turned around and left the doctor standing alone in the dimly lit kitchen.

"I hope we don't find out," Bruce whispered to himself.

Meanwhile Clint was standing in front of Natasha's closed door debating on whether she was awake or not. He didn't want to wake her up if she _was_ sleeping – she barely sleeps anyway. Then he really thought about – like hell she was sleeping while the rest of them were still awake. He took a deep breath and knocked.

_BANG!_

He heard a large object make contact with the other side of the door. He raised an eyebrow and slowly pushed the door open …that was one way to answer a knock.

"Natasha, I'm heading to bed do you need anything?" Clint called out as he walked into her dark room. Natasha shook her head as she lay on her bed and stared up at her blank ceiling. Clint sighed – she was still wearing her black widow uniform. The girl was going to kill herself one day from not taking care of herself.

"You should change and get some sleep Natasha. 3 hours is not enough to recover from this mission," he said quietly. She shrugged – she would do it eventually. He shook his head and took a seat beside her on her bed.

"You know worrying is my job Tasha. You shouldn't be adding to the stressed situation," he said carefully. Natasha promptly took a folded piece of paper out of her pocket and handed it to him. He furrowed his brow as he opened the note and read it.

'_Not worrying. I'm thinking. Just can't talk remember?' _The note said clearly answering his question. He paused as he reread the prewritten note. _Holy shit_ was he really that predictable that she already wrote out her response before he even walked in here and said anything?

"You totally saw that coming didn't you?" he asked warily. She nodded and lightly patted him on the back as she continued to stare up at the ceiling. Well there goes _his_ pride. Non-existent as it was. You can't really have a pride when you're partners with a girl like Natasha Romanoff.

Natasha suddenly pushed herself into a sitting position and gave him an intense searching look.

"What?" he asked in confusion. She continued to stare at him for a couple seconds before she reached over to her desk and pulled open her drawer.

She took out her little notepad and scribbled something onto it. He watched her stare at her writing with an odd look on her face. She was debating something. He waited quietly for her to decide what she wanted to do. He would never rush her - pushing Natasha Romanoff around was not a smart thing to do. Either she would kick your ass and shove back...or she would kick your ass and then run away. Both possibilities were equally undesirable. So he waited. After a few moments of contemplative silence she finally passed it to him. He took the notepad slowly and glanced down.

'_Do you trust me?'_ was written shakily across the page. His eyes softened.

He slowly nodded his head – there was no reason why he should not.

Natasha slowly reached over and gently closed his eyes with the tips of her fingers. He took a shaky breath as he felt her move around in front of him. He didn't know what she was going to do – but that was why she told him to trust her right? He didn't need to see to know that Natasha would never betray him. She had so many chances to leave him in the past – but she always stood by his side in the end. She was always running around getting into trouble– but she also always came back in the end. She suddenly crouched down beside him and held a cool metal object to his ear. He felt her rest her other hand on his chest as they listened to a familiar beep.

"BEEP. Clint? – It's Natasha… You know how I told you I was going to be late right? _BOOM_! Ah… hold on one second. HEY STARK KEEP THE BASTARDS ON THE OTHER SIDE FOR SECOND! I AM ON THE PHONE DAMN IT! Sorry for skipping out on you – I'll be back soon alright? Don't worry too much – you'll get grey hairs or something equally unattractive. I-I'm fine okay? I'll see you later," the message ended with another beep but Natasha and Clint continued to stay silent while resting on their knees.

Clint had nearly stopped breathing right then and there. He has been by her side ever since he found her in SHIELD medical but hasn't heard her voice in over 24 hours. He didn't realized how much he would miss her death threats until he no longer heard them anymore. Natasha silently felt his heart rate spike as she slowly brushed her hand through his messy dark hair. He was the rough around the edges type of man but even _his_ hair was soft and smooth. His breathing rate suddenly changed and became slight uneven. There he goes freaking out again she thought silently. Clint took another shaky breath with his eyes still closed as he slowly raised his hand to her chest and felt her heart beating just as fast and erratically as his own. So he wasn't the only one falling. _Thank god._

"I miss you Natasha," he whispered softly as he slowly opened his eyes and stared back at her green ones that had a fiery determination swirling in them. She was going to get her voice back if it was the last thing she did.

If for no other reason that the fact that there was something important she never had the guts to tell him before.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: This will ****probably**** be my last update until the end of exams. Please let me know if you would like me to continue when I come back at the end of January! Thank you for reading ****Lost in Translation.**

**Let's all hope Natasha and Clint will make it through in the end. **

- **Shadowsontherun **

**P.S. Vote on my poll on my profile if you want this story to be the one I update during exams. I'm only going to update one story.  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**Lost in Translation- SORRY UPLOADED THE WRONG FILE BEFORE!  
**

**A/N: Hey everyone! Lost in translation did not with the update vote – actually lost in the seas of forgotten memories won but I can't update that story right now because it requires a bit too much brainpower to continue where I left it off. I will update that story first when exams are over. As for now I guess it's a win for the people who voted for this story. Hope you like it! **

**Chapter 5**

Clint groaned as he shifted on his bed and felt all the joints in his body flare up. He felt like he was dying. Everything hurt. Why do missions always have to be so rough? He rolled over and suddenly knocked right into a familiar warm body. He froze – pillows weren't supposed to be that warm.

The next thing he knew he was shoved right off the bed and slammed into the hard cold floor with a resounding _thump_! He groaned in pain as he held his stomach – now he was going to hurt for _days_.

"WHAT THE HECK WAS _THAT_?" Clint exclaimed pushing himself off the ground and glaring up at the other lump in his bed.

A death glare was the response. Natasha Romanoff in all her crazy bed headed glory firmly pointed to the bed and then to herself.

'_My bed,'_ she mouthed to him angrily. _What_? He suddenly glanced around and realized exactly where he was - he was in _her_ room. When did that happen? Wait, did he even leave yesterday?

"I fell asleep?" he asked in shock. She nodded warily. He furrowed his brow.

"Wait…why didn't you just wake me up?" he asked in confusion. She coughed into her hand and a light blush crossed her face.

'_I did too,_' she mouthed to him. Clint rolled his eyes and fell back onto her bed causing Natasha to nearly fall on top of him. She glared at his limp body lying in front of her.

"Can I just stay here and pretend I don't have to go to SHIELD for my stupid meeting with Fury?" he mumbled into her pillow. Natasha rolled her eyes – he was such a baby.

She poked him in the side and made him jump.

"Hey! I was getting comfortable!" he complained. She poked him again and made him look over. She pointed at her rumpled uniform that she still hasn't changed out of and pointed to the door. He furrowed his brow at her vague actions.

"You're kicking me out…because you want to change?" he said slowly. She nodded and pointed at the door again. A devious glint suddenly entered his eyes – she didn't like the looks of that. He promptly rolled over and took her down with him. Natasha huffed as he rolled on top of her pinning her to her own bed with his arms trapping either side of her face.

"What if I don't want to go?" he whispered intimately. Natasha took a deep breath as he leaned into her. She made a fake gun with her hand and pointed it at his head. Clint chuckled darkly.

"I'm not afraid of guns Natasha," he whispered in her ear as he trailed his hands down her sides and back up leaving Goosebumps wherever he went. Natasha tried desperately not to react but her stupid body was betraying her. He smiled slowly as he felt a shiver go up her spine. Gotcha.

"Why is your heart racing Natasha? Are you scared?" he whispered teasingly. Natasha scowled at him even as her breathing rate became uneven. It wasn't fair – she was basically handcuffed because she couldn't talk back. She tried to think of something to say – anything to show him he didn't have her cornered – but she was coming up with blanks because his hands were so damn _distracting_!

"What's wrong Tasha? Cat got your tongue?" he whispered millimeters from her lips. He smirked as he watched her pupils dilate against her will. No other girl's dynamic response to his advances really fascinated him as much as Natasha's did. She was incredibly responsive – the complete opposite to the black widow. The black widow was a master at manipulating men into whatever feeling she wanted them to be trapped in. But Natasha Romanoff was different. Natasha Romanoff was _his_ – she just didn't know that yet. Her intense denial in contrast with her betraying body always amused him to no end.

Meanwhile Natasha was going to spontaneously combust if he kept looking at her like that.

She promptly covered her nose and pointed at his mouth. Clint's acting broke as the horror crossed his face. She sighed in relief – she didn't know how much more of that she could take before she did something crazy.

"My breath doesn't smell _bad_!" Clint exclaimed before he ran into her washroom to vigorously brush his teeth. Natasha died laughing at his response while lying on her bed. She totally lied to him.

She laughed until she couldn't laugh anymore at his horrified expression. She stared up at her ceiling with a slight smile still on her face. Clint was such a bipolar man. One minute he was playful and whiny and the next minute he had her heart racing with his dangerous side playing with her emotions. One day she was going to screw with him and see how much _he_ liked to squirm.

"Where the _hell_ is the toothpaste?" Clint growled from the washroom. Natasha snorted – definitely bipolar.

_20 minutes later. _

"Do I _have_ to come?" Clint groaned as he held his SHIELD phone to his ear.

"For the last time – _yes_! The answer is not going to change no matter how many times you ask," Maria said through gritted teeth.

"Why can't you just pretend I'm there? Why doesn't Cap have to come? He was awake at the end of the mission too!" Clint huffed. Maria Hill pinched the bridge of her nose – children, she deals with 6 overgrown _children_.

"Bring him too – I don't care! Just get your ass here in 30 minutes or I will make your life hell. It's just for an hour Barton – stop being lazy," Maria said irritably. Clint scowled at the phone.

"I'm not the one who periodically takes naps while on the job," he muttered childishly. Maria turned a deep shade of red – was nothing ever a secret at SHIELD?

"SHUT UP BARTON! JUST _BE_ HERE OKAY? GOOD _BYE_!" she shouted before she promptly hanged up on him. Clint sighed as he shoved his phone into his pocket – well apparently there was no way of getting out of that one. He reluctantly got dressed and walked into Natasha's room to see if she was still alive before he left. He raised an eyebrow as he walked in on an amusing scene.

Natasha was jumping on her bed trying to reach a shirt that was stuck to her ceiling. Now that made him wonder how that got there in the first place and what exactly was keeping it up there.

"Do you want me to get it down for you?" he asked leaning against her door frame. Natasha froze as she finally noticed him standing there – _how long was he watching her madness?_

The shirt promptly fell on her head as she stood on her bed like a deer caught in headlights. The grin on his face was impossible to hide.

He walked over and pulled the shirt off her head and glanced down at the familiar black piece of clothing. He furrowed his brow in confusion.

"Wait a minute…this is _my_ shirt," he said in realization. Natasha froze – _someone kill her now._

Natasha turned into a tomato so fast Clint thought she was going to explode. She promptly grabbed the shirt from his hand and ran out of the room – smooth Russian spy very smooth.

"Hey you can't run away after a discovery like that!" he laughed as he ran after her. Natasha sprinted around the corner and ran right past a bewildered looking Steve Rogers and Bruce Banner. She groaned – more witnesses to kill – _fantastic_!

Clint rounded the corner seconds later right on her tail.

"Hey Cap we have a mandatory meeting at SHIELD in 25 minutes! Get ready you're coming with me!" Clint shouted over his shoulder at the tired looking Captain. Steve groaned – he didn't want to go anywhere right now – he just wanted to _sleep_!

10 minutes later the mysterious black shirt was nowhere to be found and there was a red faced Natasha Romanoff sitting in the Avengers common room with her head in a book.

"Book is upside down Tasha," Clint said passing her as he walked towards the door. Tony snickered as Natasha promptly threw the book across the room – she was mortified – there was nothing saving her dignity now. She didn't even take his shirt – it was just _there_.

"It's okay Natasha you can have my sh-" Clint started to say by Natasha promptly shot forward and nearly knocked him to the ground as she covered his mouth. She glared at him as he steadied both of them so that they didn't crash to the ground. He raised an eyebrow at her angry look. There was no way in hell she was letting the rest of the team know about this epic loss of dignity. He laughed against her hand and slowly removed it.

"Fine I won't talk right now – doesn't mean I won't bug you about it later," he said wagging his eyebrows at her. Natasha growled and shoved him out the door. He laughed as she continued to push him– a ruffled Natasha Romanoff was always amusing.

"Come on Steve we're going to be late!" Clint called over his shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah I'm coming. There's cheesecake on the table if anyone wants it – it's chocolate or something," Steve said tiredly walking down the stairs and dragging his feet as he followed after Clint. Natasha and Tony both raised an eyebrow at the drained Steve Rogers.

"Stop looking like a zombie Steve – it's freaking me out," Clint said slowly. Steve yawned.

"Shut up Clint – be happy I'm coming at all," Steve muttered as he walked out the door. Clint raised an eyebrow at the moody Captain. The man was temperamental without sleep – who knew?

"Bye Tasha. Bye Tony – don't kill each other while we're gone," Clint called over his shoulder as he caught up with a twitchy Steve – this was going to be an interesting meeting –especially if someone was going to try to talk to Steve. Boy were they in for a surprise.

Minutes after Clint and Steve left Natasha and Tony promptly glanced at each other and narrowed their eyes.

"I don't care if you can't talk Red - this changes nothing between us you hear me?" he said with an air of villainy. Natasha snorted - as if she wanted anything to do with Tony Stark period.

"And so with that said I hold nothing back and say - IT'S _MY_ CHEESECAKE!" Tony shouted as he made a mad dash for the kitchen.

Natasha narrowed her eyes and took off after him - as if she was going to lose to an over pompous genius. Ha!

Tony burst into the kitchen and laid eyes on the prize - for all of 2 seconds before he was promptly tripped by an expert and smashed into the floor. He growled and spun around to grab her ankle to drag her down too. She quickly pulled a chair with her and crashed to the ground but instantly got free of his grasp as she heard a loud groan from behind her.

"Ack! I've been hit!" Tony groaned. He pushed the stupid heavy chair off of him and glanced up at the beautiful dessert - sitting prettily in his enemy's hand as she sat on the table in front of him. Tony banged his head against the floor.

Natasha silently cackled as she took another bite of the delicious chocolate cheesecake.

"I will get revenge!" Tony said shaking his fist in the air.

Natasha promptly pointed at the Avengers symbol in the center of the table with her fork. They were called Avengers for a reason. Tony scowled at her.

"Oh come on! Who the hell named us the Avengers anyway?" Tony complained banging his he against the ground once again. Natasha shrugged. More importantly who in their right mind would name their organization _SHIELD_ when they had more weapons hidden away in unknown places then there were real shields in the world?

Natasha simply did not understand Americans and their weird naming systems.

"You know Red - I think this is the most civilized conversation we've ever had," Tony said suddenly looking up at the Russian spy with a spoon in her mouth.

Natasha paused in her victory snacking and gave him an _are you stupid? look._

"Yeah I know you can't talk bu-" Tony paused as a sudden thought occurred to him and a devious smile spread across his face. Natasha groaned - here we go again. "Red - it is time for the greatest moment of my life," Tony said dramatically. Natasha gave him a blank stare - overdramatic bastard.

"I have waited 3 years for this moment of epic awesomeness. I have been secretly hoping for the day I, Tony Stark shall finally win a battle of wits between Mr. Awesome Badass and the evil spider queen -" Natasha promptly took out her phone and typed something up as he continued to monologue at her. People do that a lot lately since she can't exactly tell them to shut up.

"Where I will conquer the Avengers Tower and regain my title as most vicious and sarcastic professional insulter in the-" Tony got interrupted when he suddenly found a phone screen shoved in his face.

_'Get on with it chickenshit,'_ the text said. Tony's mouth fell open in shock.

"Chickenshit? You dare call this handsomeness _Chickenshit_?" he exclaimed as he puffed his chest out in front of him and combed his hair back with his hands.

Natasha gave his dramatic pose a disgusted look and threw one of Bruce's notebooks that were lying on the table at the arrogant bastard.

"OI! Don't throw important documents at me you bat shit insane woman!" he shouted as he ducked. Natasha narrowed her eyes and wanted so bad to rip him into shreds. He paused.

"Oh right - you can't chew me out anymore. Whatcha going to do now little spy?" he taunted. Natasha finally cracked.

_'You fucking man-child, I am going to bitch slap you so hard your devil children will feel it before they're even born!'_ Natasha mouthed at him even though no sound came out. Tony gave her angry silent raging a boring look - it just wasn't the same effect.

"I can't read lips Red but I don't think that was rated G at all!" he said pointing an accusing finger at her. Natasha literally had fire shooting out of her eyes.

_'I'll show you G rated with my fist in your face you jackass!'_ she soundlessly shouted again shaking her fist in front of him.

Tony yawned. He was winning this battle already.

"Still can't understand you Red," he said staring at his nails. Natasha's eyes darkened as she nearly crushed her phone in her hand. She angrily flipped it open and started typing furiously. Damn him and his irritating ways.

Tony pulled out a crumpled note from his pocket as she viciously typed in front of him. He cleared his throat and started reading off his paper.

"Ahem. Red while you formulate your response there is something I always wanted to tell you - and it goes something like this. Roses are red and Violets are blue, you ain't no rose and you're violent too. You appear in my nightmares like a bloody red ghost. You make poor pitiful men shake in their boots in fear of being crushed by your monster caboose. I ain't a poet but you ain't one either so let's skip to the chorus before you burn a hole in my soul and cause hell to freeze over. You frighten little children and wield a damn gun like a freaky witch and her wicked wand. You scare the shit out shit and - hey are you done yet? I can talk so much faster than you can type! Ha!" Tony snickered childishly. Natasha growled as he continued his stupid list.

"Fire breathing cockroach!" he said with an evil smirk. Natasha glared daggers at him.

"Fat Russian _beast_!" Tony cackled at that one. Natasha's eye twitched as she finally reached her breaking point.

She was _not_ fat.

Tony paled as she picked an orange off the table, pointed it at his face and promptly squeezed the life out of it with a dangerous look in her eyes. The orange of death - it was a promise of retribution.

Oh shit he understood that one too well - time to run.

"You'll never catch me alive!" he shouted as he dashed for the door.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

She wasn't planning on him staying alive.

_**nananananannanana. Run Tony run. Nanananananannanaa**_

_5 horrifying minutes later._

Clint was back from his trip to SHIELD and somehow lost Steve on the way up to the Avengers floor as he went to die on his bed. Clint paused as he heard a loud crash come from down the hall towards Tony's lab. He heard a weird squeak followed by a _bang_.

He slowly walked towards the worrying noises and pushed open the door leading into the messy lab. He froze in shock. He nearly didn't believe his eyes as the scene in front of him. It was insanity! And yet at the same time a part of him was not surprised at all.

Natasha was literally strangling Tony Stark in his own lab. What the heck?

"Natasha what the _hell_ are you doing?" Clint shouted in shock from the doorway.

Natasha and Tony both froze. She promptly dropped Stark's blue faced body on the ground and took a gigantic step back. Tony gasped in much needed air as he slid down the wall. _Holy shit_ maybe he should have stopped at the song of Clint and Natasha sitting in a tree - she went wacko after that one.

Natasha glanced around and would've whistled if she could.

"Natasha..." he said warningly. Natasha pointed at herself - _me_? Clint glared at her pitiful attempts at trying to play down the situation.

"Who else was just about to choke their teammate to death?" he asked in disbelief.

Natasha shrugged - there was probably a line of people who wanted to kill Tony Stark. She was just much more efficient and the only one to ever come close.

That was success in her books.

"Don't you dare shrug at me Natasha Romanoff! What do you have to say for yourself?" he asked angrily. Natasha raised an eyebrow.

She then proceeded to literally pat herself on the back while giving Clint a dry look. Clint's mouth hit the floor.

"God I don't even know who is more childish! The boy who baits a fucking professional assassin or the girl who tries to kill a high profile billionaire!" Clint said throwing his hands up in frustration. Tony raised a shaky finger.

"I still g-get the last word d-dinky Russian spy," Tony wheezed from the ground.

"Oh for the love of god!" Clint banged his head against the wall beside him.

_WHACK! _

Natasha slapped Tony right across the face.

"Ah my face!" Tony cried in pain. Natasha glared at him darkly.

"Alright that's it! We're leaving!" Clint said as he promptly wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her away from the abused genius.

Natasha gave Stark the finger as she was dragged away by her partner. The genius was so damn lucky Clint had come when he had!

"I hate you too you crazy Russian!" Tony shouted holding his flaming red puffy face in pain. Damn her slaps hurt like hell. Tony slowly fell to the ground with a groan - he was calling it a day. Bruce chose that exact moment to walk into their lab and froze as he saw the mess around him. He stared at his best friend lying on the ground looking like he just had the crap beaten out of him.

"You royally pissed Natasha off didn't you?" Bruce said blankly. Tony nodded from his pitiful spot on the ground.

"Yeah - but it was so worth it," Tony said happily even as he winced from all the bruises she managed to give him in 5 minutes.

"Sometimes I think you are a masochist..." Bruce said slowly.

"You should have seen her face when I got to the _good_ insults!" Tony said with a pitiful victory fist pump. Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I don't know who is more insane - the man who likes to piss off all the women in his life until they literally beat him or the women who carry out the insane beatings..." Bruce said painfully.

"Let me know when you find out buddy," Tony said raising his hand from the ground.

Meanwhile Clint was not happy - not happy at all. In fact he was genuinely pissed at his stupid teammates and their life long feuds.

"1 hour! I leave you two together in a 50 floor building for _one_ freaking hour," Clint muttered as he pulled her down the hall. Natasha scowled as she clenched her teeth beside him. She officially managed to calm down from her righteous fury after a couple minutes and tried to pull her hand out of his - yeah like _that_ was happening.

"Nope," he said tightening his grip around her hand.

Natasha sighed - she lived will such over-dramatic men. One day this hypocrite had to realize that she was even more if not equally as dramatic as these idiots. She suddenly poked him the shoulder. He glanced at her questioning face as she pointed in front of them.

"Where are we going? We're going for a _walk_ - away from any possible geniuses that have a very short life expectancy when you are in the room," he said shaking his head. Natasha rolled her eyes as he pulled her down the hall and towards the elevator. She watched him press the button for the ground and promptly shot her an unamused look. Natasha sighed and looked as sorry as she could when she really wasn't.

"Stop trying Natasha - I know you're not sorry," Clint said shaking his head. Natasha sighed - it was the truth. She glanced down at the crumpled sheet of paper she had ripped from the bastard's hand before she pummeled him.

_Ding_ - it was her ticket to justification and back in Clint's good graces. She poked him again and held the sheet out for him to look at. He furrowed his brow as he took the paper from her hand and glanced down at the handwriting that did not belong to her. His eyes widened.

"_Holy shit_...does he have a death wish?" Clint asked in disbelief. Natasha snorted. That was a bit too accurate. He read through the infinite madness of Tony Stark and sighed.

"Still shouldn't have tried to kill him," Clint said shaking his head.

She gave him a blank look. _Really_? Clint caved after a few seconds of her frank look.

"Okay yeah, I would have tried to strangle him too after reading that," Clint said reluctantly. She nodded - _exactly_.

"But you still shouldn't have!" Clint said quickly. Natasha shrugged. You win some you lose some. Clint sighed in defeat - she was a lost cause. But then again he was a willing fool if that meant he could fight for this particular redheaded lost cause.

"Did you have lunch yet?" he asked as he pulled her through the front door. She shook her head - she was a bit...busy.

"Okay we can have some now - but first...give me your phone," he said holding out his hand. She furrowed her brow in confusion but handed over her SHIELD phone without much question. She may not always act like it but she did trust her partner - more than she trusted anyone else in her entire life. She watched him let go of her hand to pull off the back cover and take the battery out before he promptly tossed it into a garbage can beside them. She gave him a questioning look as he pulled out a new battery and stuck it into her phone.

"Battery was bugged," he said in explanation. She raised an eyebrow. He handed the phone back to her.

"Look over my shoulder. We have a friendly tail probably sent by SHIELD to monitor your health for the next few days- but you don't need him if I'm here," he said giving her a serious look. He would never let anything happen to her if he could help it. She glanced over his shoulder and just like he said there was a man that seemed just slightly out of place in the street crowds moving around them. "He's going to know we found the tracker when we start moving but his dot doesn't. I'm always running after you Natasha. Ready to run together for once?" he asked holding out his hand for her to take - by choice this time.

Natasha stared at his offered hand for a moment. Clint was always getting angry at her impulsive decisions and inability to stay in one place. She was always annoyed by his unnecessary worrying and over-protectiveness. But at the end of the day he never once truly forced her to do something she didn't want to do. From the very beginning it was always her choice.

_"What if I put down my gun and walked away? What would you do? " Clint asked slowly staring at the Black Widow in also her darkness._

_"I should shoot you before you became a problem," Natasha said darkly. He gave her a weak smile._

_"But what would you really do though?" he asked softly. He watched her look away. _

_"I would ignore your mistake and think you are the most foolish assassin I ever met," she said through gritted teeth. _

_"It's not as bad as you may think it is - I quite enjoy being foolish," he said with a shrugged. _

_"Foolish people die," she said narrowing her eyes. _

_"Foolish people are sometimes the only ones who were ever truly alive," he said taking a step towards the guarded Russian. She took a step back and hit a wall._

_"You are betraying your own side Barton," she said warningly. He laughed softy and shook his head. _

_"I don't have a side Natasha - I've been on both sides - they're all the same except on this side I'm allowed to say no," he whispered inches from her face. Natasha gripped her gun tightly as he leaned forward. _

_"Make your own choices for once Natasha Romanoff," he whispered in her ear as he took her gun and shoved it in his chest. "What is it going to be Natasha?" he asked quietly. _

"What is it going to be Natasha?" he asked quietly in front of her. Natasha took a deep breath as the memories washed over her and his last words echoed in her ears. She stared into his patient blue eyes and she knew that he understood what she was thinking about. She slowly reached forward and intertwined their hands together without looking away. He gave her a warm look.

"Lets go," he whispered pulling her down the street.

BEEP. He glanced down at his own phone and quickly read a short message. He smiled softly and squeezed her hand.

The SHIELD agent assigned to watch over Natasha Romanoff froze as he stared at his tracker. His target wasn't moving on the screen but she was definitely moving fast in front of him. He glanced up just as a large bus blocked his view of two of the best SHIELD agents there ever was. When the bus passed the agent swore.

"_Shit_!" he growled throwing his tracker onto the ground. Hawkeye and Black Widow were gone.

**Clintasha Clintasha Clintasha Clintasha Clintasha Clintasha **

Somewhere in the underground subway track that ran along the entire length of the massive metropolis of New York City two people were quietly sitting next to each other looking like any average couple. Except they were anything but average.

Natasha tried to beat down the light blush that was threatening to take over her face as Clint continued to read and reread her message. It was embarrassing how he was still staring at the 7 little words. She tried to close his phone but he wouldn't let her.

"No - let me enjoy this message," he said shaking his head while still grinning. Natasha sighed and stared down at their intertwined hands - it was _way_ too easy to please him.

_'I choose to be foolish for once.' _

_- N _

**A/N: Haha Sometimes I feel like Clint and Natasha's relationship is even better when you watch them communicate in all these different ways. It forces you to see beyond their words and focus on their thoughts and actions. Haha Hope you thought this was cute and sort of funny in the middle! **

**Now back to studying for exams. Oh dear. O.O IF I DO NOT RETURN IT MEANS I DIED ON THE BATTLEFIELD OF THE PHYSICS EXAM! Farewell. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Lost in translation **

**A/N: SO I AM BACK! So sorry for the wait! I was sort of having a slight obsession with my new Clintasha story but I didn't forget about you guys! I have really weird rapid writing phases. Sorry! **

**RECAP: Natasha had just beat Tony Stark's ass within an inch of his life before Clint dragged her out of there and told her they were going for lunch. He knew she had a SHIELD tail on her and removed the tracker from her phone before they ran for it. They ended up on the subway where they were just chilling it out acting like normal people instead of the assassins that they were. Nothing too weird would happen while they were on off time…right? **

**Ha ha. If you know me you're **_**definitely**_** laughing right now. ;)**

**Chapter 6  
**  
After Clint and Natasha managed to ditch her tail they were halfway across the city before they even knew what they were doing. Natasha irritably glanced down at her watch and up at the subway map in front of her. _Idiot_.

She turned around to give her partner a very unimpressed look. He was still staring at the map in shock as well when he felt her eyes on him. He glanced at her and got the full blown effect of her stare.

"What? I was _distracted_! You were napping on my shoulder so you weren't watching if we were about to miss our stop either Tasha!" he said touchily not willing to take all the blame for this situation.

Natasha gave him a blank look before she proceeded to point to a stop near the little coffee shop the Avengers liked to frequent and then dramatically _dragged_ her hand all the way to the last stop on the map - the one they found themselves standing in right now. How the _hell _did he not pay attention for that long?

She doubled her unimpressed expression. Clint finally just gave her a sheepish grin as he scratched the back of his head.

"I sort... I sort of got distracted by you. You were kind of cute while sleeping - even if you _were _drooling on me," he said with a knowing smile.

The utter horror on her face made it so worth it when she promptly _smacked_ him over the head. He winced from her not too gentle smack. Her blows actually _hurt_- unlike most girls.

"_Owe_! Damn it. Tough love Tasha - but I can take it," he said with painful grin on his face. Natasha sighed and rubbed her forehead - he was insane. Her partner was truly insane. She took a deep breath and pointed to the exit. He furrowed his brow as he glance at the door.

"You want to go have lunch here? Where is here anyway?" he asked as he glanced at the street map behind them. He froze - well shit.

"Oh wow we are in Chinatown - who eats Chinese for lunch?" he said scrunching up his nose in distaste.

Natasha promptly shoved her watch in his face and waited for the inevitable reaction. He squinted at the small clock and froze.

"HOLY SHIT IT'S 6 O'CLOCK IN THE _EVENING_?" he shouted in disbelief as he grabbed her arm to make sure he wasn't seeing things. Natasha rolled her eyes - that's what she was saying this _whole_ time!

"Man Tasha…you napped for a _while_!" he said in awe. Natasha gaped at him. How _dare_ he blame her for this mess?

He glanced up at her fuming eyes - she looked like she wanted to strangle him. He quickly flashed her a boyish grin to throw her off her his scent and quickly dragged her out of the station.

"Let's go take a walk and have that dinner then!" he said cheerfully dragging her through the busy streets filled with the famous New York nightlife.

She glared at her partner and then suddenly glared at the little boy who brushed too close to her in the crowd. He squeaked and ran away. She glanced down at her hand where it suddenly felt a lot lighter and realized her watch was missing. She growled.

Natasha was going to _shoot_ the next person that dared to try to pickpocket her in the crowd. Clint noticed her predicament right away and shook his head with a small smile on his face.

"Tasha sometimes you have really bad luck," Clint said trying to hold back a laugh because of her furious expression. She scoffed and looked away. She made the motions of punching her fist against her open palm and squeezed the life out of something in thin air. Clint suddenly stopped walking and burst out laughing - he couldn't help it. She stared at him like he was crazy. She was being serious! How dare he laugh at her threats?

"Don't worry Tasha - I'm sure you are just as deadly as ever. I'm just immune to your lovely intimidating charms," he said turning towards her and curling a strand of her short red hair behind her ear. She froze under his touch and he smiled softly at her as he lightly traced his hand over her cheek and across her nose. She always did response to affection more strongly than any seduction techniques he could have used on her. Natasha Romanoff expected to be seduced by bastards her entire life.

But Clint Barton just wanted to hold her. He just wanted to touch her and breathe her in and never let her go. He just wanted _her_. He felt her tremble slightly underneath his touch and knew he got the message across. Then she abruptly pulled away and put several feet of distance between them while breathing rapidly. He had crossed a line.

But he didn't care anymore. He felt like they crossed it a while ago anyway.

"Why do you always run away Tasha?" he asked softly. She took several deep breaths and gave him a warning look. He took a step closer and she took another two steps back.

"Why do you always shut down when things get too real? Why do you always pretend like there's nothing there?" he asked as he continued to walk her into an alley and away from prying eyes. She clenched her jaw and glared at him. He didn't look fazed at all - her glares were just walls he got good at tearing down over the years.

"Why do you always deflected everything and anything that threatens to hinder your iron control? You're deflecting right now Tasha. Do I make you feel like you're losing control?" he asked calmly as he finally cornered her against a wall. She wasn't breathing right by any delusion but she was still tense and looked like she honestly wanted to punch him.

It made him want her even more.

"Why do you always push me away...when you know you want me just as much as I want you?" he whispered inches from her tense face. He could see the massive armed internal conflict storming in her eyes.

He was telling her all the things they weren't supposed to say because for the first time in her life Natasha couldn't instantly shut him up or lie to him with her words. She had no words - all she could do was give him the truth.

And the truth was downright terrifying her.

_Click_.

He smiled without looking away from her fierce gaze as he suddenly felt a steady gun pointed at his heart. He couldn't care _less_.

Because Natasha Romanoff didn't need a gun to kill him.

"Are you going to shoot me Tasha?" he asked leaning into her personal space and causing her grip to tighten around her gun. He gave her an intense look.

"Because I'm not afraid to die from a bullet. Not if it came from you," he whispered placing his hands on her hips and pulling them flush against each other daring her to make a choice. She growled as she dug the gun harder into his chest but he simply waited for her to decide. His touch was like fire and burned right through her shirt and he wasn't even moving. His eyes were patient but firm - he _needed_ her to make the next move.

Suddenly they both heard a shuffle behind them and knew they were about to get caught.

"Hey! What are you two doing in an alleyway like this?" someone said suspiciously from behind them. Clint and Natasha instantly froze. He spun around and covered her as she quickly shoved her gun into her back pocket. They didn't need any questions or authorities after their ass right now. They were already too publicly known anyway. He gave the officer watching their suspicious reactions a disarming smile.

"Why officer - it's Friday night and I was just trying to show my girlfriend how much she means to me. Isn't that right Tasha?" he asked innocently wrapping an arm around her waist and laying his hand over her stomach. He felt her inhale sharply. The police officer continued to stare at the couple with a calculative look. He saw the impromptu staring contest start to heat up the air right in front of him and suddenly rolled his eyes.

"You young people need to calm your hormones and leave the foreplay for the bedroom. Sheesh you guys reek of sexual tension. You _really_ should take this somewhere else," the officer said scrunching up his nose in distaste. Natasha tensed under Clint's grasp but he just held her tighter. He kept his face convincingly embarrassed even though he knew she was seconds away from pounding him into the ground. Maybe he went a bit too far. Oh well - he was already screwed anyway – might as well really dig his grave properly.

"Of course officer - it's just like we're back in the beginning when we were just starting to get to know each other. Like we were dancing around each other for years," Clint said with a light laugh. She was going to kill him the second this officer was gone. He knew it. He could feel it.

"Take the cheese and take a hike boy," the officer said shaking his head as he started to turn away from them. Clint gave a sheepish nod even as he felt Natasha rapidly start to grow more rigid beside him. Oh yeah - he was going to die today.

"Sure thing officer - have a wonderfully _uneventful_ night!" Clint called out to him as he watched the cop disappear into the crowd. The easy smile instantly turned into a grimace. _Unlike him._

Time to die.

The next thing he knew he was running for his life as several silent well-aimed knives flew past his head as he ducked and skirted around the alley corner with a _furious_ assassin after his ass. He couldn't hear her rage but oh he _definitely_ felt it.

"You're in denial Tasha!" he shouted over his shoulder as he expertly evaded another sharp projectile. He heard her growl though and knew she was going to kick his ass.

He avoided 1 then 2 then 3 then 4 _damn_ knives aimed at his head. _Holy shit._

"You are going to run out of knives eventually Tasha!" he shouted as he quickly dashed around another the corner and plastered himself against the wall to catch his breath.

He froze as he suddenly found a fist fly into his face and instantly ducked. He heard the telltale _crack_ of cement against brutal impact and froze.

She was out of knives.

But he was still _dead_.

And yet they've been doing this for _years_.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Ha ha things are going steam up in the next chapter. But she is not even **_**half**_** as angry as she pretends to be. Seriously. If you want to know what a serious fight is like between them you should read '**_**I dare you'**_**. Ha ha I went all out with that one. LOL **

**Anyway sorry for the long wait! Review and let me know if you're still interested in reading this little story! **


	7. Chapter 7

**Lost in translation**

**A/N: You **_**probably**_** didn't see this coming. But if you did you'll **_**probably**_** still like it. ;) Considering my tendency to drag things out (cough Precious93 cough) this is my response to you missy :P **

**Chapter 7 **

Clint took a deep breath as he plastered himself to the alley wall and listened to Natasha's angry breathing from around the corner. She was letting him hear her on purpose. Oh boy she _really_ wanted him dead. He gritted his teeth in frustration.

She was _always_ doing this. She was always using her anger to push him away. To keep him at a distance. They've been partners for years and there wasn't a _thing_ about her he didn't know anymore. He also wasn't a young naïve archer anymore. She wasn't quite as heartless as she really used to be. He wouldn't deny it – he used to think Natasha Romanoff was cold as ice and that nothing could thaw her – but then again his greatest weapon really was kindness.

No one gives someone like Natasha Romanoff a second chance – but _he_ did. And he didn't regret it for one second of his entire life. Not taking the shot when he had the chance to take out the greatest assassin in the world was the _best_ decision he ever made. Even though it only set him up for 10 years of lonely heartache. He heard he grow closer and steeled his resolve.

Well then - there was really only one thing left to do. The second he felt her round the corner with her blazing eyes he shot forward and knocked them both to the ground. He felt her hit the floor with a _thump_ and he promptly dropped his weight on top of her to pin her in place and watched the air get knocked out of her lungs as he quickly ran his hands down her body and felt all the knives she had strapped to her person. He chuckled darkly. Even during off time she still had a minimum of 5.

She growled as she struggled against him but he quickly grabbed her wrists in one hand and swiftly removed the weapons from her body. He stared at her dead in the eyes as he flung them in some dark corner of the alley forever to remain forgotten.

But _he_ never forgot. He never forgot the slightly softened looks she gives him when she thinks he's not looking. He never forgot the way she touches his face when she thinks he is sleeping – he's _never_ sleeping when she's that close. Her scent alone keeps him awake for hours. He never forgot the way her eyes search him out in a crowd – like she was going to tear the whole world apart until she found him. She's already done it once during the Loki incident. The only reason he was even here today was because of _her_.

He stared down at the fuming redhead beneath him and felt his eyes harden. She wasn't going to run away today. He wouldn't let her. She wasn't going to keep saving him and then walk away. Clint Barton doesn't work like that. He doesn't let random people save his ass without repaying them. And Natasha Romanoff was so much more than just a stranger passing through his life. She _was_ his life.

"You're deadly with or without your knives Tasha - but for _once_ in your life you are going to have a conversation with me without any weapons to hide behind," he said firmly as he snaked his arm over her stomach and slid it down her back. He felt her tense and give in involuntary shiver. He would have smirked if he wasn't too busy trying to disarm her. He swiftly gripped the gun stuffed in her back pocket and pulled it out before he threw it over his shoulder to join the knives wherever they were – he didn't care.

Today it was just going to Clint and Natasha. The Black Widow was not allowed to interfere today. The Black Widow already got too much of Natasha Romanoff. He wasn't going to let it have _all_ of her.

She glared up at him with fierce eyes as she watched him completely disarm her. He made her so _angry_! He was always pushing her to the edge of insanity and doing dangerous things. She didn't care about dangerous actions – it was his _words_ that were wasn't a weapon in the entire world she couldn't figure out how to disable or use against her opponent. But she couldn't fight words – and right now she didn't have any of her own. And that was downright terrifying because that meant she couldn't stop him from what he was about to do. She could feel it – right in to damn chest. He was going to be stupid. He was about to be reckless. He was about to change everything they worked to keep balanced. And she couldn't even do a single damn thing about it and they both _knew_ it.

He stared back at her burning look with an intense one of his own. She was breathing harshly as she viciously tugged at her trapped wrists and for some reason he couldn't catch his breath either as he held her hands tighter over her head. There were no more threats, no more lies, no more secrets – it was finally time for her to hear the truth and who better to give it then her own partner?

"No more fighting Tasha. I'm tired of fighting you. Because _Tasha_. Tasha it's been _years_. You and me. Partners forever. Don't you ever wonder what it would be like? Don't you ever dream about what we could be like?" he whispered as he breathed softly against her cheek. He felt her go rigid beneath him as he started to tell her every dark forbidden thought he ever had about them. He didn't care anymore. He really didn't. Nobody's opinion about their relationship mattered to him anymore - no one's except her own.

She steeled her eyes – holy shit she _knew_ it. He was going to be _stupid_! She doubled her attempts to get away from him but he knew her too well and just held on tighter as he locked her legs in place – the Black Widow had met her match. And she was going to _listen_ to him damn it. She angrily gritted her teeth – she didn't _want_ to listen.

"I dream about us Tasha. Every night when I close my eyes I see you. You're terrifying and deadly and stubborn and god I never thought I was a masochist but I wanted you _anyway_. Don't you ever feel it Tasha? Doesn't it hurt to look to at the one person you want every day of your god damn life and know you can't have her?" he said painfully. He watched her angrily look away from his agonizingly honest eyes and determinedly shake her head.

How could he be doing this now? How dare he bring stuff like this up now when she couldn't even say a word? He stared at her denial in disbelief. Even _now_ she was lying!

"What do you _mean_ no? Why are you shaking then? If you never felt it too why is your pulse racing then? Why are you always _lying_ to yourself Natasha Romanoff? I'm so _sick_ and tired of watching you walk away from me Tasha. I'm exhausted by your denial - I really am," he said as he continued to stare at her with his intense blue eyes. He locked his elbows on either side of her head and forced her to keep looking at him and listen to him for once in her god damn life.

She growled up at him as he held her face directly in front of his. She wanted to _hit_ him! She wanted to grab his shirt and shake him for saying the things he was saying. She wanted to shut him up but she _couldn't_. This conversation was years overdue. He watched the intense anger flash across her eyes and shook his head in disbelief.

Even _now_ she was still fighting him.

"I _know_ you Tasha. I've known you for so damn long it's like we've lived a lifetime together but at a distance Tasha. Always at a distance. You try and pretend you don't have a heart Tasha but I know you do. Because mine can't be calling a void. I _refuse_ to believe there's not something calling me back," he whispered with sad eyes.

She froze under his body and he knew she was going to cut him up into pieces if he even let her go for a second. He laughed humorlessly. He had to fall in love with the only girl in the world that wouldn't crack no matter what you did to her. But he knew how – he learned how she ticked and knew that with every word he was saying he was tearing down one more wall between them. There were only so many walls she could keep putting up until there was nothing left between the two partners.

He felt her silently growl something against his cheek and laughed brokenly. _Oh Tasha_. It was the same thing after all these years. Always the same damn thing.

"_Compromised_? What compromised? Tasha we've been compromised since the day we _met_. Our partnership was _born_ from a compromising decision," he said with a humorless laugh. She tensed but he just kept _going_. He's never found the opportunity to just tell her everything because she would always shut him down with a few curt words. Now it's only Clint who can fill the silence and he is going to use this chance to fill her ears with things she's been denying for too damn long.

He shook his head at her sadly as she continued to shoot daggers at him. He's been collecting daggers since forever. She tried to shove him off of her because she was so scared of what he was going to say next. She didn't want to hear it but he was firm and unmoving in his storm of words that were never meant to be spoken.

"But it doesn't _matter_ Tasha. Frat regulations are there to keep us alive in the field. But we're the best there is. If something as stupid as feelings was going to get us killed it should have already _happened_ Tasha. But it didn't," he whispered softly begging her with his eyes to just let go. He could feel the intense tension vibrating in her body and wished she would just let go of everything that was keeping her back. Every lie she ever told herself to keep her solid in her iron determination to never be compromised – but they were the _definition_ of compromised.

He wanted her to finally let go and she wanted him to _stop talking._ They did neither of those things and he finally decided he was going to scare the _shit_ out of Natasha Romanoff today and possibly give her a heart attack.

"Tasha we're both still alive. After everything that has happened to us. After all the things we've been through. After all the countless times we've both nearly died. After all the missions we lived through – with our sanity intacted or not. You can't talk right now but you're alive Tasha and I _promise_ we're going to get your voice back. I promise because you need to tell me that you love me too," he said steeling his eyes. He watched her slam her eyes shut as she frantically tried to ignore the words ringing in her ears. But there was no way she didn't hear him. There is no way she could explain his words away.

Because he said it. The one thing he wasn't allowed to say. Never been allowed to say. He watched her try to stop hearing him but she never lost her hearing. He finally let go of her wrist and felt them fall to the ground as he wrapped his arms around her shaken form.

"I love you Tasha and guess what?" he whispered in her ear. He felt her tremble beneath him and he knew he was scaring her. He was scaring her to death. Natasha Romanoff has never been scared of anything in her entire _life_.

But she was scared of the truth.

"The world's not ending Tasha," he whispered with a breathy laugh as he watched her terrified green eyes open and stare back at his calm warm blue ones. He flashed her one of his signature boyish grins.

Stubborn until the end – there was a reason he waited for so long. She was someone worth waiting for.

**A/N: Intense archer. That was the first time in all my stories when he finally told her the 3 words. (At least the **_**very**_** first time – memories doesn't count). Epic moment. Natasha didn't even crack until the last second. Haha off to write 'I dare you' and now you can imagine just how long it took them to get HERE. This is 10 years later. LOL **


	8. Chapter 8

**Lost in translation **

**A/N: Hey everyone! Darn it's been a while hasn't it? I was having a difficult time figuring out where I wanted this story to go but now I have SOME sort of idea. **

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Natasha and Clint stared at each other locked in an intense staring matched directly following his anything but little declaration. He could feel the tension radiating off of her rigid body underneath him as she narrowed her sharp green eyes. He sighed as he rested his elbows on either side of her head and let his bangs fall into his eyes. He watched he get tenser and tenser- she wasn't taking his words well at all.

"You don't have to say it back Tasha – I just needed you to know," he said softly trying to calm the storm that was about to explode. He knew she literally couldn't say it back even if she _did_ want to – not that he really expected her to admit anything any time soon. The depth of her denial was something no one but her partner could comprehend. Natasha was one of those people who were such good liars she could even manage to fool herself.

And so here they were 10 years later.

Natasha stared at her partner for a long moment before he finally saw her right eye twitched – it was his only warning.

_BAM_!

The next thing Clint knew he had blacked out for a second as he roughly hit the ground. He groaned as he fell onto his back and painfully cracked his eyes open to look up at the blazing eyes of his silently fuming partner staring down at him. She was beautiful in her rage – deadly and utterly _violent_ – but still beautiful.

"_Ugh_…you…really…never…change…_Tasha_…" Clint muttered as he gingerly rubbed his abused jaw. He can't say he didn't see that one coming. He was only surprised that she even let him hold her down long enough to say it at all. He's not stupid – he knew she could have easily thrown him off if she had truly wanted to. His partner was a crazy eccentric Russian for sure. Sometimes he just couldn't guess what she was going to be in these types of moments - annoyingly stubborn or just plain ridiculous. Natasha huffed and angrily tugged at her hair. She mouthed progressively more offensive looking words at him before she gestured wildly in his general direction and he thinks he finally got what she was trying to say.

"I drive you crazy? _You_ drive me crazy!" he scoffed as he eyed her little silent rant warily. He watched her grit her teeth before she finally stopped freaking out and just glared at him fiercely. Clint held his ground and glared back.

"You know what? I said what I wanted to say and you're just going to have to _deal_ with it Tasha!" he said heatedly. He watched something in his partner's eyes snap before she instantly shot forward and had him shoved up against alley wall within seconds. Clint barely winced as he felt his back hit to wall – he was too distracted by the seething assassin growling in his face. He fed off her anger – if she was angry at him it meant she actually cared he had feelings at all. So many men have fallen all over themselves trying to capture the widow's attention – all have perished. He was the only one who ever got away with anything. He was the only one who ever _truly_ got to her.

FYI – telling a girl like Natasha Romanoff you're in love with her is the equivalent to a death sentence. If your name is not Clint Barton she would have killed you long before you even got all the words out_._ Instead of killing him for being unimaginably compromised she simply gripped his shirt tighter in her two fists and slammed him back against the wall as she stared at him with a dangerous gaze. Clint wasn't afraid – he wasn't even worried. They've always been dangerous people – he knew exactly how dangerous his partner could be. He's watched her in action for years. He's been silent for years. He was sick of silence. He didn't realize how little he was able to say until he was the only one who could do the talking.

"What are you going to do Tasha? What can you _possibly_ do? You can't change how I feel and deep down we both know you feel something too," he whispered staring back her at her angry eyes. Otherwise she wouldn't be _this_ pissed at some flimsy confession she could have easily brushed off and walked away from. Otherwise he wouldn't be able to see the flickers of fear flash across her usually blank eyes. The only reason this would be a problem for her was if there was even a slightest chance, the _tiniest_ possibility that the cold unmoving widow wanted him too.

Natasha had a million thoughts flying through her head and the frustration behind not being able to voice any of them was driving her _insane_. She couldn't deal with her partner like this. She has always been able to ward off his advances before this voiceless crisis started. She had always managed to keep this problem under control. Now she was definitely not in control and she needed it back _desperately_. He watched her eyes harden as an icy unmoving determination took over her face and he knew she was mentally running from him again.

It takes two to tango. Natasha knows the dance moves – she just doesn't want to dance. Not with him. _Never_ with him. She roughly grabbed him by the chin and forced him to look at her dead in the eye – as if he ever looked away in the first place.

"_Partners_," she mouthed firmly. He shook his head and chuckled. It was always the same thing.

"We're _so_ much more then partners Tasha," he whispered reaching up and brushing his fingers against her cheek and trailing a haphazard pattern down her face. He felt her desperately try and hold back a shiver and smiled knowingly. She instantly gritted her teeth and roughly yanked at his hair.

"_Partners_," she repeated with more force behind her harsh look. He winced from the pain but simply shot her a careless grin.

"Why can't we be both? I have your loyalty Tasha. I have your trust. I have your grace and your strength and your support in the field. I have more of you then any other man in the world – but why I can't I have your heart?" he asked quietly placing his hand over her chest. Natasha froze as they both stared at his warm hand resting against her frantically beating heart. Their eyes shot up and he felt something start to burn in his own chest. He was done with waiting.

"It's mine you know?" he said calmly as he gripped her shirt in his own fist and finally decided to take control of the situation. She suddenly backed away from him and forcefully shook her head. A determined look melted over his expression.

"Think about it Natasha. Stop throwing up your damn walls and actually _think_ about it. No one else makes you react the way you react to me. No one affects you the way I affect you. No one makes you feel what _I_ make you feel," he said firmly taking several confident steps towards her tense form. He watched with sharp sniper eyes as she spun away from him and speedily stalked out of the alley. She needed to get _out_. She needed to get away from him before he did something stupid.

Natasha tensed as she felt him instantly wrap his strong archery-enhanced arms around her waist and drag her back flush against his chest. She felt her control start to slip because for once in her life she had _no_ idea what to do. She felt him breathe hot warm breath against her ear and it started messing with her head and clouded her thoughts with images of them and what he said they should be. She never let herself think about _them_ in the past – those kinds of thoughts were always off-limits. _He_ was off limits. It was wrong. It was wrong. It was _wrong_!

"And now you're scared," he whispered in her ear as she slammed her eyes shut and tried to ignore every dormant feeling he was evoking in her body. The Black Widow was not supposed to have damn _feelings_. Hawkeye might – but _she_ was never supposed to. She was supposed to be stronger than that. She was supposed to be able to take anything someone could throw at her. She was trained to never feel _anything_. Where did all her years of training go? Why was this one man getting to her? She couldn't handle the fact that her own _partner_ was doing this to her. _How dare he?_

She wasn't going to let him get to her.

She steeled her resolve roughly ripped herself out of his arms and he let her go because he knew the best way to breaking the Black Widow was not by force. She wasn't the only clever one on their team. She wasn't the only one who could plan and get people to say the things they don't want to say. They've never used their own agent skill sets against each other – before today.

"You're going to admit it one day Tasha," he said firmly without moving an inch closer to her - for now he was going let her go. Natasha backed away as she furiously shook her head.

"_No_!" she silently growled. He gave her an intense look.

"One day is going to be _really_ soon," he said firmly. He's never actively pursued her before – that was going to change really fast. Waiting for her to realize that they were it for each other was obviously not going to happen. He watched her angrily glare at him for several tense seconds before she ripped her eyes away from his and bolted around the corner. She didn't know what exactly he just started but she wasn't going to let him get what he wanted. She gritted her teeth and angrily flew down the alley. She needed to get her damn voice back. She really needed to get him to _shut up_.

"You're running away again Tasha – but I'm going to catch you," he said determinedly, before he spun around and stalked down the alley in the opposite direction. It was only a matter of time. Natasha Romanoff was his – she has _always_ been his. They have been partners for too long for him to ever want anyone else. There was never anyone else.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Well isn't someone a possessive assassin? And the other is a seriously in denial assassin. **

**Haha that was basically the Clintasha version of: "You know want me,"/ "NO I DON'T!" LMAO**

**So, what is it going to take to get Natasha Romanoff to crack? **

**Messed up mission. **

**Drunk or drugged Natasha. **

**Avengers meddling. **

**All of the above?**

**Next chapter we'll start figuring out why she can't use her vocal cords. How many days does it take for our resident geniuses to get to the bottom of this crisis right? **


	9. Chapter 9

**Lost in translation **

**A/N: If you guys read Rumor has it you're going to have whiplash from how I change the team roles in this story. Haha. I love Steve – I can use him for so many Clintasha plot devices. From the jealousy pawn to the supportive friend. Evil laughter. If you don't know what I'm talking about…don't worry about it. It's an inside joke. ;) **

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 9 **

Reset. Release. _Bang_. Reset. Release. _Bang_. Reset. Release. _Bang_.

Clint steadily kept up the rhythm in his well-practiced motions as the glisteningly sweat poured down his crinkled brow. His sharp blue eyes scanned the moving targets in front of him as he shot arrow after arrow without even having to think about where his hands needed to go – he had drilled the techniques into his head years ago and had long since perfected the art of _act first, think later_. In the field there was sometimes never any time to think and quick split second decisions were the only thing that could save him or his partner in a tight spot. Archery had always been his first love - but right now it was just a plain old fashion distraction. He needed to focus his razor sharp mind on something that didn't have red hair or a runaway mouth full of sass.

"You know, you only become this military-like in your training when you're trying to ignore something," a familiar calm voice said from behind him. Clint promptly snorted.

"What are you? My damn shrink?" he said without slowing his perfectly synchronized shots. He didn't look away from his rapidly moving targets, but he was able to make out the rather buff figure of Steve Rogers in his peripheral vision. He had not been there a moment ago. The Captain was leaning against the wall beside him as he continued the vigorous training session he had started so that he could blow off some steam after his rather eventful day full of angry assassin, stubborn assassin and cowardly assassin.

Yeah he needed a better distraction. This clearly wasn't working.

"Working yourself into exhaustion is a great way of solving _nothing_," Steve said warily. Clint scoffed and would have given the blunt Captain a dirty look if he wasn't busy blowing the targets boards in front of him to pieces. There was a certain level of primal satisfaction behind being able to blowing a perfect hole through a target board with the speed that he had managed to build himself up too after thousands of hours of practice. It was his art. It was his one special skill on the team that no one else shared.

"I'm not trying to solve any world ending problems Steve – I am just shooting some arrows," Clint said indifferently. He was actually actively trying not to think of solving anything at the moment – he didn't even _want_ to think.

"Just shooting arrows for an hour is recreational fun. Just shooting arrows for 2 hours is maybe sharpening your best skill and good exercise routines - abide a very energy consuming one. Judging by the state of the repeatedly abused target boards you've been here for a grade total of 5 hours," Steve said eying the horrifying condition of the half dead looking stands. Clint didn't even spare him a glance. Nosy team leader had done it again. Well score one for Rogers.

"Brilliant deductions Cap – you sure you're not a detective or something?" Clint asked sarcastically. Steve gave him a serious look that made Clint feel like he wasn't going to like where this conversation was headed.

"Where is Natasha, Clint?" Steve asked slowly. Clint tensed but didn't stop his perfect firing pace.

"Not here," Clint said steadily, letting go of his current arrow and allowing it to sink into the target just a _bit_ deeper than all the others. If Steve was looking for his partner she was clearly not in the room. Natasha and Clint weren't magically glued to the hip - despite what everyone believes. If Clint could have his way she would be – but we all know how much Natasha likes being confined to one space for too long. There was no way to contain her – all Clint really cared was that she was safe – as safe as an assassin with the kind of enemies they had could be. Steve narrowed his eyes.

"Clint she just recently came home from her accident after our mission – she's still injured and she can't talk. Where _is_ she?" he asked with a bit authority laced into his voice. Clint twitched as he took one last bull's eye shot and lowered his bow. Natasha was not an amateur. She wasn't even life threateningly injured. She was one of the best assassins in the world and she didn't need codling. He _really_ hated when people underestimated her. His partner was one of the best – insult her and you were automatically insulting Hawkeye.

If Steve was _anyone_ else other than his good friend and team mate he would have lashed out at him. But there were so few people who _genuinely_ cared about Natasha in the world he had to force himself to cool his irritation and give Steve the respect he deserved. Not many people could forgive a pair of assassins with ledgers as red as theirs – it was a miracle a man as righteous as Steve could even look at them.

"I know where she is Steve," Clint muttered as he stared at the bow that suddenly felt like it weighed 50 pounds more than it really did as it rested in his grasp. He knew his partner like the back of his hand. He would bet his best, most _treasured_ bow that he could track her down without the use of all the fancy Stark tech. He was an old style spy – a true hunter. He could predict patterns in his marks better than a computer ever could.

And there wasn't a person in the world he knew better than Natasha Romanoff.

"Then why are you here? Shouldn't you be watching her after just being released from medical?" Steve asked carefully. Clint shot the captain a sharp look.

"She doesn't need a babysitter Steve. She'll kick your ass if you ever say that to her face," Clint said warningly. Steve shook his head. He wasn't here to start a fight. He was here to give Clint some vital information.

"We don't know all the facts Clint. We don't know if the only thing wrong with her is the inability to speak. We don't even know if it's permanent or not yet," Steve said carefully. Clint tightened his grip around his bow and finally had enough.

"So what _do_ you know?" Clint asked started to get just a _tiny_ bit frustrated with the Captain. He was already feeling edgy after his confrontation with his partner earlier today – he didn't particularly want to have another clash with a different Avenger within 6 hours his last rumble. Steve took a steady breath.

"Tony hacked SHIELD files again," Steve started carefully crossing his arms. Clint gave him a blank look – _and_ _he was supposed to care because…?_

"When is Stark not sticking his nose in places it shouldn't be?" Clint asked indifferently as he bent down to pick up his fallen arrows. He had laughably little interest in Stark's need to know everything – until Steve _made_ him care.

"He hacked into Natasha's files," Steve continued staring at the wall over the tense archer's shoulder. Clint suddenly stopped moving with several arrows sitting neatly in his expert hands as he burned holes into his team leader's head.

"And why the hell would that warrant such a dramatic tone Steve?" he asked dangerously advancing towards the Captain. Steve held his ground and gave Clint a steady look that said he needed to _calm_ the hell down and listen to him before jumping to conclusions.

"He found level 10 classified files. SHIELD is launching an investigation on Natasha's voiceless problem without telling any of us – especially her. They think it's revenge. They think her condition was staged and planned," he said carefully. Clint narrowed his eyes.

"We have a lot of enemies Steve – most of them would like nothing more than to see my partner's dead body lying in some forgotten back alley. But this? Why would someone go to this much trouble to create a method to strip someone of something as painless as voice loss?" Clint asked in frustration. It didn't make any sense. Steve gave him a look that said he had an idea why. She wasn't the Black Widow for nothing.

"You know she is suspended from the field until we find out how to fix this right?" Steve said carefully. Clint reflexively clenched his fist around his arrows. He didn't want to admit it. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to acknowledge the truth that his partner was essentially compromised – and not the in the way he would like her to be.

"What do you think is going on Steve?" Clint asked stiffly instead of answering the Captain's rather rhetorical question. There _was_ no question about her field status and they both knew it.

"Someone is trying to break her," Steve said slowly. Clint suddenly chuckled darkly and shook his head.

"Natasha doesn't break easily – trust me I've tired," Clint said as memories of their tussle in the alley flashed across his mind. His partner was _beyond_ stubborn and a world class coward to boot. But she was firm in her beliefs and Clint knew she believed without a doubt that they were not supposed to work. He _knew_ her. He knew how her cold calculative brain worked. And he was going to make it his personal mission to prove her _wrong_ – right after he took out the person that was trying to take _her_ out. Steve suddenly gave him a grave look.

"You learn something after years of service Clint. If there is one thing that can break a spy – it's the inability to be one anymore," Steve said carefully. Clint tensed. That was _not_ was he wanted to hear.

"What do you want me to do?" Clint asked swiftly picking up his bow and retracting it into its collapsed form and shooting across the room to grab his gear – he didn't want to do this so soon after their fight but if things were getting serious on SHIELD's end he needed to find her - before someone else did. Steve shifted into his natural controlled stance and crossed his arms as he watched the Hawk load his guns – now he was wondering where _exactly_ Natasha had gone. Where does a volatile Russian assassin go when she is obviously not with her partner? They all knew Clint kept her tame – they just never said it.

"Bring her back to the tower. Tony and Bruce want to run some tests and take a crack at her scans themselves. If anyone is going to spot something that best doctors in the world missed - it will be those two," Steve said confidently. Clint didn't stop in his swift arming and he didn't stop to answer the questions lurking in the Cap's eyes. Clint desperately wanted to believe Steve's hopeful words – but he was never the optimistic type.

"She doesn't really want to be found right now Steve," Clint said elusively as he stuffed his loaded gun into his back pocket. Steve furrowed his brow.

"Where is she?" Steve finally asked with his voice instead of just his eyes – Clint ignored how he was getting dangerously good at reading an entire conversation in just someone's eyes. It was scaring him slightly. He didn't want to have to read all the words in someone's head through just their eyes for the rest of his life. He felt something painful tug at his chest. He wanted to hear her again. He _needed_ to hear her again. He missed her voice so damn much. Clint paused with his back to the Cap as he stared at the ground.

"I told you I _know_ where she is," he said firmly. He wasn't going to say another single word. Steve has known the SHIELD agent long enough to see something was not right. He narrowed his eyes as something suddenly clicked.

"What did you _do_ Barton?" the super soldier asked carefully. _What stupid thing did you say?_ was left unsaid.

"I cornered the Widow in between a rock and a hard place," Clint muttered as he walked away. He didn't regret it. He would never regret it. He slid a pair of dark sunglasses that doubled as night vision lens over his sharp sniper eyes. Missions, assassinations and piss poor pathetic criminals got real boring, real fast. He got bored easily – it was one of his flaws and he knew it. She made his life interesting. She kept him on his toes. While she was still the enemy or after she became his partner – it didn't matter. Natasha Romanoff had always fascinated him and captivated his attention. He didn't regret having feelings for the most dangerous woman in the world and he wasn't afraid to accept that she wasn't falling to her knees returning his affections with open arms.

He wouldn't be in love with her if she did sappy shit like that. _He_ was the sappy one thank you very much.

He was on the hunt for a Widow – he would run after her for the rest of his life if she let him. He felt the edge of his lips pull up in a cocky smirk as he slipped out of Avengers Tower and disappeared into the night as silently as a ghost – a highly trained ghost.

He wondered at what point in their longstanding partnership their little hit and run rumbles had become sort of like a game.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Clint silently ran across several flat apartment roof tops along the shadier side of New York. The farther you got from the rich and classy downtown region the dark and dirtier the streets became – as least in the neighbour he was moving through. He was no stranger to shady neighbourhoods – he grew up in one himself.

He didn't completely lie when he told Steve he knew where she was. He knew where she was most _likely_ to be. Natasha was a wild card – but he had a lucky streak like no other. He knew he had probably pissed her off to unimaginably proportions with his words and she was simmering in silent rage. He knew what she wanted at the moment. He knew what she was looking for.

She was looking for a fight. Usually when she was this wound up she would spar with him and get it out of her system – but seeing as he was the butt of her apparent problem at the moment she was hunting for a quick stress release somewhere else.

Somewhere like an underground unregistered boxing rink on the outskirts of the city that never sleeps. Natasha was angry at him sure – but she was angrier at her inability to cuss him out he knew for certain. She was angry enough to want to go a few rounds with the dirt that crawled under the scum of New York. She didn't need to talk to kick some poor criminal's ass. Clint suddenly felt his thoughts turn to the one other option – the one that made him want to kill men slowly and painfully.

He really hoped she wasn't looking for the _other_ type of release – the one that didn't involve blood, sweat and broken bones. He was proud of himself when he only faltered slightly in his step as he grabbed the edge of a roof and flung himself onto the next roof top. He's only known Natasha to ever take 3 men to her bed in the last 10 years of their partnership. None of them were him. One was a drunken mistake. One was a stress induced mess. One was a ruthless assassin still on the wrong side of the law. And only one of them was currently still alive.

Take a good guess at which one was still breathing. Clint clenched his jaw as he grew closer to his destination.

God damn it if he ever saw James Barnes the pain in his ass American super soldier turned soviet brainwashed assassin in New York again he would kill him. He ignored the logically side of his brain that reminded him he had already tried to accomplish that goal and how it nearly caused his own demise instead.

Yeah going head on with super soldiers was not a smart idea. He may rumble with the supers of the world but he was far more lethal at far distances and with a pack of his favourite exploding arrows – not up close and personal with only his fists as weapons. To say it frankly – he got his ass whipped and an unimpressed Russian spy sitting beside his hospital bed when he woke up 2 days later. She had slapped him the moment he opened his eyes and walked away. Coulson had told him later that she hadn't moved from her chair from the entire 2 days – things like that gave Clint hope that he could break her icy walls.

He was nothing if not persistent.

Clint finally stopped running and leaned against a wall to catch his breath as he caught sight of the bar tucked into the side of an alley that led down into what he knew for a fact was the most dirtiest fighting rink in the city. From the ruckus he could hear echoing through the thin door today there was a truly spectacular fight. If his partner was in there – he was sure it was a spectacle indeed.

"To engage the furious Widow in battle or not to engage the Widow – that is the question," he muttered to himself as he watched the entrance like his namesake. He could let her work the anger out of her system and wait her out until she left on her own– or he could speed up the process by giving her a little incentive to leave by showing up and catching her in her secret anger management rituals. No one else knew the type of trouble she got herself into during her off time – of course he knew. He was her partner after all. He paused as he watched the bar door suddenly bang open and out walked a dark haired woman dressed in ripped jeans, a tight black leather jacket and something that looked a lot like blood dripping from her clenched fists. She was no average street thug.

He paused as she passed under the dim street light and he suddenly got a clearer look at her build and the familiarity of the way she carried herself hit him right in the face. He took a closer look at the black hair - it was a _wig_.

Busted.

"Man I missed the show!" Clint huffed childishly as he watched his disguised partner stalk down the alley and roughly rip the black wig off her head and fling it into a dumpster without ever once breaking her brisk pace. Her red curls gracefully fell across her face and for a moment Clint was mesmerized by her beauty – he always had been. But then he quickly shook those thoughts out of his head and followed after her – he had to get her to come home. Regardless of her ill feelings towards him at the moment they needed to get her checked out by their resident geniuses. He didn't want to go on a mission without her. He doubted she wanted to be left behind either. She'd come along – but she would give him an icy shoulder through the whole thing too.

"You run away from confessions with style Romanoff – I'll give you that one," Clint muttered under his breath. He had the strangest sense of déjà vu as he trailed his partner to wherever she planned to go at 11 pm at night.

She suddenly went completely still and that put Clint on high alert. Was there a threat down there? Was she in trouble? Was she being followed by someone who knew she couldn't even verbally alert her team if she got into _real_ trouble? She suddenly looked over her shoulder and stared right at his perch that was completely hidden from view.

_Beep_. Clint froze as he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. _No fucking way she knew. There was no god damn way._ He flipped open his phone anyway and angrily glanced down.

'_Stop following me hawkboy.'_

_- N _

Clint stared at his phone for nearly _3 whole seconds._

Dear god she was _messing_ with him. It was exactly like his initial assignment to take her out in Rio. Clint narrowed his eyes and typed something back without looking away from her piercing gaze.

'_Stop running like a coward and maybe I will.' _

_- C _

He watched the tension suddenly drain from her posture as she glanced down her phone and read his reply. He nearly slapped his hand against his forehead. The reckless idiot had sent that text as a _hunch_. She had no idea if it was really him who was trailing her. He watched as the barely visible relief on her face suddenly turned to irritation. Uh oh. _Beep_. He glanced down warily.

'_Piss off and go get a life.'_

_- N_

Clint scoffed and edged closer to the fire escape that he had a feeling he would need it in the next 60 seconds.

'_I already have a life. She's currently being a pain in my ass,'_

_- C_

Natasha tensed as she read the bold message and her eyes flashed up to lock with his. They both stood as still as stone - the only movement between them was the barely visible motion of her fingers flying across her phone screen. _Beep_. Clint narrowed his eyes as he was forced to glance down.

'_Hope you can run with that arrow up your ass,' _

_- N_

She was flying down the alley before he had even finished reading her message.

"Romanoff you sassy _asshole_!" Clint growled under his breath. He was in love with an escape artist! _Fantastic_. He instantly got to his feet and chased after her over the roof tops. He needed to get down to the ground to catch her, but following her from up above gave him the advantage of gaining on her.

"So we're playing this game eh?" Clint called out to her as she skirted around the corner, not without shooting an annoyed glare over her shoulder first though.

_Beep_. He glanced down _again_ as he kept up his fast pace.

'_I'm not the one who plays dirty games with circus animals.' _

_- N _

Clint _stared_ at the message. She was cruel.

"Oh that is just mean Tasha," he muttered under his breath. She was clearly still pissed at him. Why did it have to be him? Why was he the only one in the entire world who got _this _messed up response from a girl when he told her that he was in love with her?

Two can play at this game.

"_At least I'm not the one who has a creepy relationship with her pistol and sometimes caresses it lovingly like a new born baby's butt.' _

_- C_

Natasha stared at her phone screen with a blank expression as she ran across a deserted street with her partner only a few meters behind her. What kind of insult was that? She narrowed her eyes. She hadn't expected him to try and find her so soon after she ditched his ass. She suddenly clenched her jaw. Why was he here? Shouldn't he be drinking himself into oblivion after she shot his affections down the drain or something?

She didn't even know how his brain worked sometimes. Well actually she knew _exactly_ how it worked – she just didn't know _why_ it worked the way it did. She typed out her brisk response and wondered if she should give him the slip at the subway entrance that came into view 20 meters ahead of her.

'_LAME. What type of dignified assassin calls their bow a stripper name like roxxie jonna?'_

_- N _

Clint gaped at her response and nearly fell right through the gap between the two roofs he was in the middle of jumping across.

"Low blow Romanoff! Low blow!" Clint bellowed down the otherwise silent alley. He watched her raise her hand as she gracefully flew down another alley - and promptly gave him the finger.

Well. _She_ was a delicate soul. Clint scoffed.

Delicate his _ass_.

He was about to end their little chase when something suddenly changed in the whole atmosphere. He froze in his pursuit of his partner when he suddenly saw _her_ freeze as she stared at something down the new alley to her left she was about to run down. He felt something like fear spasm in his chest when he saw her take an unconfident step back and if she wasn't Natasha Romanoff he would say she _almost_ stumbled. She looked back up at his current location of only 2 roofs behind her – he wasn't even trying to be invisible. She swiftly reached up and pulled her hair out of its loose ponytail. When he saw the barest hint of uncertainty flash across her face he knew they were done with games. He was already scaling down the side of the building before her hair band had hit the ground.

She used one of their mission signals. She needed him down there – she needed him _right now_.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Now things are getting interesting! They might be 10 years as partners – but the dynamic is still so volatile**!** Haha. Some action is overdue right? I wonder what Natasha found? Maybe it will speed up her current phase of wanting to be far away from him.**

Review and let me know what you thought!


	10. Chapter 10

**Lost in translation **

**A/N: Seems like angsty action is the current pattern across all my stories. It just sort of happened. Oops. Apparently my writing muse is in angst mode right now? You can blame the horrible mission in I dare you for that. At least Clintasha feels afterwards are always nice right? **

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 10 **

Clint flew down the alley with only one thought racing though his mind – _he didn't know what was wrong._ He had to know what was wrong. The only way he could help her was by knowing what was wrong.

"Natasha!" he shouted as he raced down her alley no less than 20 seconds after she signaled him. He rounded the corner with his hair whipping passed his face, just in time to see his partner's legs give out beneath her as she fell to her knees. For a second he felt his heart stop as his mind came up with the worst case scenario – she just got shot dead in the chest. But then his ears and eyes caught up with his runaway imagination and he instantly realized there was no gunfire and Natasha…was _alone_. He shoved the momentary confusion out of his mind and instantly fell to his knees beside her. He grabbed her roughly by her shoulders and forced her to look up at him. Her eyes were blank and slightly unfocused – what the hell?

"Natasha? Natasha what's wrong?" Clint asked carefully shaking her back and forth. Natasha rarely reacted like this to any situation. She always dived into any battle with her head held high, battle face on and guns at the ready. He had no idea what had gotten into her. What could possibly paralyze the Black Widow? He was about to slap her across the face to knock her out of whatever daze she was in when he took a deep breath and froze.

He smelled blood.

Lots of blood.

He slowly turned to peer down the alley and saw a large puddle of blood with a small broken redheaded girl sprawled across the dirty cold alley floor. She had 3 bullet shots in her leg and her clothes were completely ripped to shreds. Clint paled when he saw no chest motion.

The girl was dead.

"_Shit_," Clint said under his breath – if he hadn't been an assassin for over 15 years he thinks he would have thrown up right then and there. He quickly tore his eyes away from the horrifying scene and quickly glanced back at his paralyzed partner.

"Tasha. Tasha I know it's bad but why are you so pale…" Clint trailed off as he followed her frozen eye line - she wasn't actually looking at the girl. Dead bodies would never shake her like this – she had thicker skin then that. He finally caught sight of the dripping red liquid that covered the alley wall and froze.

'_Courtesy of the Black Widow' _

Clint _stared_ at the words painted in dark red across the dark alley wall. It had to be some sick joke. Of all the things this murder scene could be – this was not her style. Natasha was a covert operative – hell she was a god damn _spy_. Flashy and explosive was not her style – silent and deadly was. When Natasha took someone out she didn't leave arrows behind like he did. _Her_ assassinations were always uniquely executed and completely unidentifiable. She didn't have patterns. She didn't leave a trail to follow.

She finally looked away from the chilling words and locked eyes with him. He saw some of her signature determination mixed with her natural confidence slowly reenter her sharp gaze. He didn't need to hear a sound to know what she was saying.

_I didn't do it. _

Natasha was many things. She was an infiltrator, a hacker, a martial artist, a strategist, a spy, a ninja fucking assassin and a god damn mute at the moment.

But she wasn't someone who killed children – especially not for no reason. Natasha continued to stare at him what her unwavering gaze – he had to believe her. He had to understand. Even if no one else would dare trust an ex-Russian assassin like her. He was her partner. He promised to follow her no matter where she went. Clint slowly raised a shaky hand and gently brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek and rested his palm against the side of her face. Natasha took a shaky breath – she didn't know why she let him do that.

"I know Tasha," he whispered with the sincerity bleeding through his words. He believed her. He would always believe in her.

She suddenly froze as something caught her eye over his shoulder. He tensed too.

"What is it Natasha?" he asked suddenly going to high alert again. He was reaching for his bow strapped to his back before she had even opened her mouth to silently mouth something at him. He furrowed his brow as he tried to read her lips in the dim lighting.

"Still bre..athing? _Still breathing_?" he repeated in a much higher tone and instantly spun around to stare at the broken girl lying a few feet away from them. He zoned in on the barely visible rise of her chest that had _not_ been happening a minute ago.

"Well shit! Shit! Oh shit we need to get her to a damn hospital Tasha!" he exclaimed quickly flying into action. He promptly fell to the ground beside the broken body of a little girl and scooped her up into his arms with giving a shit about how he was instantly covered in her blood. The kid was alive – barely – but _alive_.

Natasha simply stared at him – how the hell was he planning to get out of here with a half dead kid?

"Get your ass off the ground and let's _go_ Natasha!" Clint said pointedly ignoring the blood soaking into his shirt as he stood up with the girl still lying limp in his arms.

She looked away as a bitter expression crossed her face. How was she supposed to be any help? Clint impatiently gave her a sharp glare. He needed his scarily efficient partner right now – not the hesitant girl who didn't know who she was without a voice. He promised himself he would help that part of her later – after they dealt with their current problem.

"I don't care if you can't talk – _move_ Romanoff!" he ordered in his clear military voice taking over. Natasha gritted her teeth and promptly stood up while trying to hide the strain in her expression – he was too well in tuned with her not to notice. Clint sighed.

"You can't talk Tasha – but life is a lot more than just words. You can drive right?" he said firmly. She nodded slowly. He gave her a steady look – he had confidence in _her_.

"Good. So wipe the wimp look off your face and let's hijack a damn sport car and break every god damn speed limit in New York City my crazy badass partner," he said flashing her a cocky smirk to shake her out of her funk. Natasha's hesitant expression instantly vanished just like he knew it would and turned into a deep scowl. She angrily stomped passed him while whipping out her gun and firing the lock off a car across the street in front them.

How _dare_ he call her a wimp? She was instantly rewiring the ignition before he even had a chance to jostle the girl in his arms and follow after her.

"I love a woman with sass!" he called after her as he tightened his grip around the little girl's waist and swiftly made his way out of the alley. He had to keep his partner distracted – if being pissed at him would do the trick then so be it.

"Don't die on me kid," he whispered under his breath as he glanced down at the unconscious redhead in his arms. He had to make sure she lived – for his partner's sanity.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Now we have some drama! Wonder who this kid is? And who's after our lovely Russians assassin? **

**I have the next chapter finished so review and I'll update tomorrow :) **


	11. Chapter 11

**Lost in translation**

**A/N: More fluff then you would think…?**

**Chapter 11 **

1 hour later two uneasy assassins were sitting in front of the pediatric surgery ward covered in blood that wasn't theirs. Natasha had gotten her clothes soiled when Barton transferred the unconscious girl to her arms while he made quick work of lying their way into the hospital and get the kid medical attention _before_ they asked them a million questions. Now they were both stuck in the busy Brooklyn hospital because apparently the doctors refused to operate on the kid unless they parked their ass here and acted as her temporary guardians. What kind of bullshit was this?

The kind of bullshit that made SHIELD operatives extremely antsy. They shouldn't be here. Someone was trying to frame this kid's impeding death on Natasha and they needed to get out and contact SHIELD. But first they really needed to make sure she didn't _actually_ end up dead.

"She's going to be okay," Clint said firmly staring at the closed surgery doors in front of them. He had no idea if that was true or not – but he damn well hoped it was true. He could feel her piercing stare burning into the side of his head. She wasn't as optimistic. There was too much blood – in the alley, on her body, on their own clothes. He finally tore his eyes away from the surgery doors and locked eyes with his rigid partner. Her green eyes were full of hidden words she didn't have the ability to say. His eyes softened in understanding.

"Not your fault," he said softly touching her face with the tips of his fingers. Natasha took a sharp breath and barely turned her head in the negative. He was wrong. The kid was hurt because someone with a nasty grudge was after her. Clint steeled his eyes and suddenly gripped her chin tightly with the same hand that was caressing her cheek moments ago – she _never_ takes him seriously unless he takes charge.

"_Not_. Your. Fault. Tasha," he said determinedly with an underlying threat that dared her to argue him on this moot point. Natasha stared back at his serious eyes and ignored how the threat in his voice made something twist painfully in her gut – it wasn't fear. Natasha instantly looked away and focused on controlling her breathing. It was something so much worse. Shit. Shit. Shit. He was doing it _again_. Clint easily saw her internal conflict and shook his head sadly as he leaned his head against the wall behind them.

"What does it feel like to pretend you don't feel the pull Tasha?" he asked calmly staring up at the white ceiling of the hospital that smelled way too much like antiseptic for his tastes. He felt her instantly tense up beside him and closed his eyes. He pretended for just a moment he could see warmth instead of ice in her green eyes and his own raw feelings that ran much deeper than just affection reflected in her gaze instead of the current stubborn denial she was holding onto for dear life. She couldn't threaten him in her usual way so when he felt the slight prick of a knife brushing against his side he just smiled.

"Sharp knives and even sharper unspoken words Romanoff – makes you wonder why you need such strong weapons to hide behind – if you didn't have anything to hide that is," he said casually. He chuckled when he felt her shoot angry glares at his head. She was such a pain in his ass workaholic that he could barely control on a good day – and yet here they were.

"You know you never answered my question from yesterday," he said suddenly – still without opening his eyes. He felt her pause as she tried to remember what the hell he was talking about – he said a lot of _shit_ yesterday. She froze as he leaned into her with his shoulder brushing her shoulder, his head pressed against head and his lips brushed her outer ear. She felt all the air get sucked right out of her lungs.

"Do I make you feel like you're losing control Tasha?" he whispered in her ear.

Natasha's eye twitched and the next thing he knew she had instantly slapped her hand over his mouth. She can't stand listening to him say _one more word_. He finally opened his eyes and found annoyed green ones staring back at him. He wanted to say more, he wanted to poke at her denial some more but then she insistently pointed at her watch and gave him a burning look. _Shut up. Shut up. Shut up._ She chanted in her head. Clint paused.

Oh.

"Right we need to leave before the police comes looking for statements," he said with a sigh and backed off for a second. They needed to contact Hill and get her to cover up this mess before their civilian identities got registered in the system. Frankly Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff didn't even exist in the American legal system and they planned to keep it that way. He glanced back at her and caught the relief on her face. He gave her a dry look. It was actually pretty pathetic to watch.

"Don't look so relieved Tasha – you and me have a double date with a pair of geniuses who would marry technology if it was legal," he said causally while fishing out his cell phone from his pocket. She stared at him.

"Oh yeah. You're getting thoroughly checked out – whether you want to or not," he said answering her obvious stare. Natasha narrowed her eyes – she would like to see him try and force her to do _anything_. Clint didn't even have to look at her.

"I'll just throw you over my shoulder like the caveman you like to call me and drag your ass all the way home Tasha," he said with a shrug. He wasn't bluffing. He's done it before and she knows it. She scowled at him. He wouldn't _dare_. He simply smirked back at her.

"Oh I dare alright," he said as he flipped open his phone and dialed a familiar number. Natasha was in the mist of planning how to strangle him to death and make a hasty exit when he suddenly started talking.

"Hill? We need recon and civilian cover control," Clint spoke effectively ignoring his seething partner who could just sit there and cool her ass for a moment. He heard a familiar groan followed by an expected _thump_.

"What the hell has Stark done _now_?" Hill asked irritably. Clint took a deep breath.

"It's not for Stark…" he said slowly glancing back at his partner for confirmation that she was okay with him telling SHIELD about this. She ignored him as she crossed her arms over her chest and stared a hole into the ground. He took that for what it was – she was leaving it up to him. At least she trusted him enough to handle this situation. "It's for Natasha. Someone is trying to frame her for a child's murder – her codename was written in blood in the alley we found the kid in," he said leaning back against the wall beside his partner and running a hand through his hair as he waited for the inevitable explosion.

First he got was silence.

He counted to 10 in his heard and sighed when he heard Hill finally inhaled a sharp breath. Here we go.

"12 hours Barton. It has been 12 _hours_ since we released her from medical – and now she already has a psychopath with a vendetta against her trying to get her thrown in jail for _child_ _murder_?" Hill asked dangerously. Clint narrowed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"You should really think before you say something Hill – because for one, there are always people out to kill us after the number of high profile missions you've sent us on over the years and two…she's an assassin. It's not hard to frame an assassin," he said seriously. He felt Natasha suddenly tense beside him and instantly placed a firm hand on her knee to stop her from doing something stupid - like leaving the country. He could feel her eyes burning into the side of his head but didn't turn to look at her. She wasn't going anywhere. He promised her who she woke up 2 days ago that he would follow her anywhere – he would keep his promise.

There was a momentary paused on Hill's end and Clint hoped to god she wasn't going to ask for all the details right now and would just bail them out.

"Do you know her?" Hill asked carefully.

"No. We've never met this girl before. All we know is that she has red hair and looked to be around 10 years old. That's not a coincidence Hill – but we have nothing solid at the moment," Clint said cautiously. Hill pinched the bridge of her nose. God why did these agents always have to get themselves stuck in the worse possible problems out there?

"Do you know who really did it?" she asked trying to get some solid facts before she sent a team into this. Clint sighed.

"Hill we don't know anything at the moment. Just give us a break will you?" he said irritably. Hill took the cue.

"Is the kid dead?" she asked slowly. Clint took a deep breath.

"No – she's in surgery right now," he said steadily. Did that count as dead?

"So she's _not_ dead," Hill said blandly. Clint sighed heavily – god this was draining.

"Depends on your definition of dead Hill," he said tiredly. He really didn't want to play these stupid games. She probably heard it in his voice because she was all business after that.

"My definition of dead is the definition of alive that will keep her ass out of the fire. Cleanup will be there in 20 minutes. Make yourselves scarce," Hill said curtly in agent mode. Clint sighed in relief. Coulson might be gone but agent Hill was still better than all their other options.

"Thanks Hill – we owe you," he said gratefully. He paused when he heard something shift on the other end of the line. Uh oh.

"Yeah? I'll be cashing in on that debt right now actually. Agent Jackson is down for the count due to mission injures. Congratulations you just got promoted to temporary combat trainer for new recruits," Hill said promptly dooming him in 5 seconds flat. Clint froze in shock. Natasha couldn't hide the evil smile on her face- revenge for all the crap he threw at her. _Yes_!

"THAT'S NOT A DAMN PROMOTION AT ALL!" he shouted in outrage. Field agent to _babysitting newbies?_

The best marksman in the world has been DEMOTED – what the hell?

"Too bad – see you on base in 3 days agent Barton. You and your partner just gave me a lot of homework so now you suffer _with_ me," Hill said with a bit too much glee before she swiftly hung up. Clint gaped at the phone - he was completely speechless. Natasha patted him on the back in mock sympathy. He glared at her.

"Don't look so smug – you're going to be doing it with me," he said threateningly. Natasha paused as she considered this – kicking his ass in front of new recruits and wiping off the cocky look forever engraved on his face? Installing fear in the hearts of baby SHIELD agents even without a voice? Terrorizing the idiots in medical until they find the cure to her current problem out of fear for their lives? That sounded like a dream come true to the currently mission deprived agent. She suddenly got that evil glint in her eye that he didn't like at all. He groaned and banged his head against his knees. He knew exactly what the crazy spy was thinking.

"I _really_ hate how your head works sometimes," he muttered under his breath as he gave up on out threatening the Black Widow and pushed himself off the hospital floor. Time to leave - the further away they were from the girl the safer she would be. They couldn't afford to have her used against them. He turned around and held out his hand to tug the Russian assassin to her feet. She continued to sit there with her elbows propped against her knees, her long red hair swept over her right shoulder and her leather fighter outfit completely ruined with blood stains and gave him the familiar _Tasha is not impressed_ look. He had to fall back on his years of sniper training to make sure he kept his breathing under control even as his blood started pumping just a bit faster than he would like – he always knew Natasha was beautiful, a man would be blind not to see that, but what he loved the best about her was that she was a stunning fighter who was most beautiful in battle.

Or maybe that is just the soldier in him taking over his psyche again.

There has got to be something wrong with finding a woman who can wield knives like a paint brush and leaves a path of destruction in her wake without a trace of the painter's presence more attractive than the latest Jenifer Lopez modeling on the cover of those cheap magazines Steve likes to pretend he doesn't read. Natasha Romanoff turns assassination into art – and he must be really messed up to actually have a deep appreciation for her work. She's gorgeous in one of those tiny red cocktail dresses and 6 inch stiletto heels – but she's so much more than a pretty face. She's so much more than just the red that flows through her ledger.

Clint continued to stare down his stubborn partner and deep down he knows he has something better than those airheads you see on TV. Maybe he doesn't have her yet. Maybe she hasn't reached the stage he is at yet. Maybe he needs to give her just a bit more time – but he has the feeling that when he _does_ finally wear her down, when she finally lets him in – he's going to be trapped in her dark web forever.

And that's _exactly_ what he wants.

"Come on Tasha - I don't bite..._much_," he said giving her a mischievous smile as he motioned for her to take his hand. She scoffed but took his offer anyway - probably only to prove that she wasn't putting any money on his playful threat. He effortlessly dragged her too her feet but expertly pulled her a bit too hard – enough to have her slam face first into his chest with a silent _oomph_! She scrunched up her nose in distaste and instantly glanced up to give him an annoyed look. He simply grinned.

"Hey gorgeous – falling for any handsome archers lately?" he asked wagging his eyebrows at her. Natasha gave him a blank look and promptly glanced down at her bloody clothes. She wasn't the epitome of sexy ballroom seductress at the moment. If this was his acting he was the shittiest actor she ever had to work with in the field. She looked back up at him and gave him a look that said she thought he was full of shit and that he would need to lie better than that to fool a professional liar. He shook his head and leaned forward into her personal space.

"Still gorgeous," he whispered as the words ghosted over her lips. Natasha became stiff as a statue in his arms and he fought the urge to roll his eyes. Stubborn spiders – maybe he should dump her in some water – maybe that would teach her a lesson. He wanted to do a number of things to her – but none of them he particularly wanted to play out in a hospital waiting room.

"Let's get out of here Tasha," he said calmly taking a step back away from the tense agent. He spun around and confidently walked down the hall without any worry that she would high tail it and disappear. Natasha was too proud to sneak away behind his back – it also might help that he would just stick an arrow through her shirt and drag her home if it came down to it. He smiled slightly when he felt her reluctantly fall into step beside him.

"So…wanna stuff Tony's portable Iron Man suit in his vent a see how long it takes him to find it?" he asked out of nowhere. Natasha shot him an incredulous look. Did the man's childishness know no bounds? He caught her disbelieving expression and snorted.

"He painted my bow a _rainbow_ last week. It took me hours to get the paint out! I'm thinking about stink bombing the inside of his suit as a warning to stay away from my weapons," he said darkly but the evil glint in his eyes gave his playfulness away. Natasha clenched her hands into fists as she listened to him continue to be so _normal_. He was insistently pushy one second and back to his average annoying cheery self the next. It was driving her insane. He was about to continue sharing his master plan with her when she finally couldn't take the whiplash anymore. It was killing her.

Natasha suddenly stopped walking and her arm shot out to grab onto his shirt and stop him as well. He glanced back at her and watched as a storm of emotions flew across her usually expressionless face – too fast for him to catch anything. She picked up a napkin and pen lying on the magazine table beside them and carefully wrote out a single sentence. She shoved it into his hands and he glanced down in confusion to read what she wanted to say that likely couldn't be gestured through words.

'_Why are you doing this Barton? Why are you still being so damn nice to me?' _

His eyes softened slightly and he looked up to see the real uneasy confusion lurking in her eyes. She didn't understand. She didn't understand his feelings at all. Whatever love was it was dangerous. It made people resentful. Rejection was painful. It should make him grow to hate her. Instead she was so utterly confused when Clint simply reached out and placed his warm palm against her cheek and wrapped his other arm around her waist to pull her closer until they were only a hair's breath a part – she didn't know why she let him get that close. She didn't know why she wasn't running from the same terrifying emotions she saw yesterday swirling in his eyes once again – aimed at her – she's only ever seen him give that look to her. He looked at her like…like she was the ground he walked on.

It was _dangerous_.

_He_ was dangerous.

This whole mess was dangerous.

Natasha tired _so_ damn hard to actually give a damn. Her control was slipping again. He breathed soft puffs of air against her face and held her gaze for a long moment.

"Just because you said no doesn't mean I stopped loving you," he whispered before he leaned forward and pressed his lips against her forehead. Natasha stood stalk still as she felt the warmth spread through her entire body and sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. The edge of his lips pulled up slightly as he lingered for just a moment before he pulled back and flashed her his signature boyish grin. Natasha tensed. He hadn't even kissed her on the lips and she was already melting on the inside – _get a grip Romanoff!_ She berated herself silently. His shit eating grin slowly faded into a more relax expression.

"Let's go home Tasha," he said quietly pulling her out of the suffocating hospital that held the body of a little redheaded girl who's only mistake was being a redhead in the wrong place at the wrong time. Today was a long day and all he really wanted was to get her inside the tower so that he knew she was safe before he finally let himself crash for the night. Natasha stared at her partner as he led her down the dim street of New York. She stared at his strong archer enhanced hand firmly wrapped around her own. If she loosened her grip on his hand he only held on tighter. She couldn't do anything except stare. He was compromised. It was so obvious he was compromised.

And yet nobody was saying a god damn thing.

What did being compromised really mean exactly? Was it really being weak? Or did SHIELD have it all wrong? Everything she's ever known told her falling in love was the biggest mistake you could make as an assassin. Love was a weakness. Love made you a poor fighter. Love made you careless – it made you reckless.

Love was a tool that can only be used to _break_ you.

She had always been so sure love was just a lie. She had always been confident that she was above petty feelings like that. She always thought strength came from having no weakness.

But if that was all true then why did she only see strength and patience when she looked at him? Why did his eyes linger on her face when he thought she wasn't looking? Why does he say he loves a woman who couldn't even say his own name anymore?

Above all else - how the hell does he even _stand_ her?

If there was _one_ thing Natasha wanted to say – if she was given the chance to say one word before she died as a mute - it was his name. His real name. '_Clint'_ would be the last words on her lips. Natasha took a sharp breath and slammed her eyes shut.

_But_ _he was her partner. He was her partner. He was her partner._

He was an assassin. She was an assassin. They were killers. They were covert operatives. They were two people who were so messed up they should be admitted into a mental institute.

_By why can't we be something else too Tasha? _His confession continued to echo in her ears and she didn't know what to believe anymore.

Does she believe the one man she has ever trusted in her entire life or does she avoid the doomed fate hundreds of compromised partners faced before them?

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Nothing like a little angst to kick start her feelings right? He's making her fall in love with him against her own will – HAHA sneaky assassin much? I think Clint knows her far better than she knows herself. I think he knows exactly what he wants and she just needs to stop being a stubborn mule and give it to him. LOL ah but would she be Natasha Romanoff if she didn't go down without a fight? Kicking and screaming into love anyone? **

**Time for some Tony Stark poking Natasha with a stick. Oh dear god she'll kill him before he even has the chance to cure her silent problem. XD **

**Any guesses to who's after her though? You guys are still interested in this story right? Not many people reviewed last time – guess you guys are busy since it's Monday after all haha but I promised I'd post this so here it is! Off to update other stories now. Bye! **


	12. Chapter 12

**Lost in translation **

**A/N: HEY GUYS! It's been a while! But I'm back! For a little bit. I have exams soon but I wanted to update this story before I disappeared again. LOL. **

**Fluff I guess. Intense plot will come later. Like really intense. Just not right now. **

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

It was a few days after the little red head in the alley incident and the Avengers were starting to get used to having a silent assassin lurking in the tower. At first it was rather awkward running into her and trying to gesture through broken charades on steroids. However, basic communication wasn't the worst part.

If they thought Natasha was scary before…it was _nothing_ compared to how she was now. She nearly scared half of them to death by simply appearing out of nowhere or by her new style of threatening

Take breakfast for example.

"…I'm going to be tweaking Buster's new circuit board and upgrade him to the 150 volt model because frankly I'm getting sick of cleaning up after one of his frequent leaking episodes. And - HOLY COW - where did you come from?" Tony shrieked as he nearly jumped right out of his skin as he came nose to nose with a blank faced Russian assassin in a loose pair of black shorts and a large baggy T shirt that they swore they've seen on someone else in the tower before. She was currently carrying a plate full of burnt toast and an innocent orange in her hand.

Natasha gave him a bored look and simply continued towards her original destination throwing the orange innocent up in the air as she walked passed him.

If Tony watched the orange in her hand with an uneasy expression on his face it was because he quite clearly remembered what she did to the last orange she had used to demonstrate her rage towards him before he had royally pissed her off. He promptly backed away from her. Huh. Well that was a coincidental win-win she thought offhandedly.

"Can I have one of your toas-"

_BAM_.

She promptly stabbed the table beside her plate with one of her many red knives and marked her territory. Tony paled and laughed nervously – he was still feeling her expert killer hands around his throat and wasn't quite prepared for round two.

"We'll just be getting some untoasted bread from the fridge and be on our way then…right Brucie?" Tony said glancing at his science partner in crime. Bruce shot him a burning look but nodded quickly when Natasha glanced at him.

Bruce and Tony slowly inched around her chosen domain with their hands up while giving her a 5 feet personal bubble space. Natasha eyed their suspicious movements but made no move to kill them - yet.

She was like a dangerous she-lion waiting to pounce on the poor hyenas.

"_Hurry up with the bread,"_ Tony whispered obnoxiously gesturing towards the beast silently eating her breakfast behind them. Bruce shot him a burning look.

"_I'm hurrying. Do you know how hard it is to make an edible PB&J with you breathing down my neck?"_ Bruce whispered back irritably.

"_Well hurry faster!"_ Tony growled.

_"I'm moving as fast as I can!"_ Bruce spat back. They both shot worrying looks over their shoulders to make sure she was still occupied with her own breakfast.

_Om. Nom. nom. nom. _

She was almost done her first piece of toast. Tony paled.

"_Well it might not be fast enough because we need to vamoose out of here before the devil stabs us to death!"_ Tony squeaked as he grabbed the jelly and slammed a shit load of it onto the bread in front of them. Bruce gaped.

"Tony! You ruined my hard work!" Bruce shouted in outrage. Tony promptly slapped his hand over his furious friend's mouth in fear.

"SHHH!" he hissed.

Natasha silently sipped her morning coffee as she pretended like she couldn't hear every single word the two not very subtle geniuses were saying.

She was mute – not deaf.

_SCREEEEEECH_.

Tony and Bruce both froze in utter terror as they slowly turned their heads in unison to stare at the scene behind them.

They both looked like they saw a ghost.

Natasha's knife had somehow dragged itself across the table and scratched out one single word.

**D.E.A.D. **

All hell broke loose then.

"Move Bruce move!" Tony shouted before he scrambled to grab the half made sandwiches and busted out of the kitchen door like a bat out of hell.

"I WANT TO LIIIIIIIIVE!" Tony bellowed as he practically flung himself into the elevator.

"Don't leave me here alone with her!" Bruce cried as he ran after his best friend with a scared little boy look in his eyes.

Natasha smiled the creepiest deadly assassin smile in the history of assassin smiles.

That was a good start to her day.

She had peace and silence for all of 3 minutes.

"…Hey do you know why Tony and Bruce looked like they were just about to piss their man pants as they ran down the hall?" a familiar voice asked from behind her. Natasha shrugged half-heartedly while stirring her spoon in her coffee with an innocent look on her face. She ignored the weird feeling that filled her chest as she felt Clint leaned over her shoulder and catch sight of her knife embedded in the center of the table. She paused in her casual stirring and stared at her knife too.

_Well shit._

"_Natasha_…," Clint growled warningly in her ear. She promptly picked up her plate of toast and offered it to him as a peace offering with the biggest eyes she could manage. Clint narrowed his sharp gaze – her acting went right over his head. Natasha huffed in defeat. Damn it - it sucked to have a partner that could see through all your lies within seconds.

"I don't want your brunt toast. How on _earth_ do you burn toast anyway? There is an automatic button on the toaster!" he exclaimed in disbelief. Natasha shrugged and placed the plate back onto the table before she picked up one of the burnt squares and munched on her burnt toast.

Some mysteries you never solve.

"Do you want me to make us some pancakes?" he asked warily as he took pity on the horrible breakfast she was condemning herself to. Natasha paused with the brunt square halfway in her mouth. He could see the debate flash around her eyes as she debated between keeping her self-reliant assassin pride or having an actual edible breakfast.

When he heard her stomach grumble in dissatisfaction he knew which side had won.

"Dark chocolate for yours and mint chocolate for me?" he asked with a light laugh. Natasha scowled at him but irritably threw her burnt toast onto her plate and shoved it away from her. Clint snickered and started prepping the batter to make him and his partner breakfast that didn't come with a side of death. Natasha sat at the counter and watched him work silently for a few minutes. When it looked like he was going to drop one of the eggs in his arms she started to get up to help him but his words stopped her in place.

"Touch anything and you die," Clint said waving his spatula at her warningly. Natasha sputtered ungracefully. How dare he? Clint read her expression loud and clear.

"Tasha. You touch food and it bursts into _flames_," he deadpanned. Natasha huffed and stared at him in disbelief. Clint shrugged as he stood in front of the stove.

"You know it's true Tasha," he said frankly.

_BAM_!

He stared at the knife embedded in the wall in front of his stove and blinked.

"Now that was just rude Tasha," he said dryly. He turned around to find her inches from his face with a pissed expression twisting up her pretty features. Clint was about to rib her some more about her terrible cooking skills when he noticed something off about how she looked this morning. He glanced down at her chest and paused.

_Oh Romanoff you're going to regret this. _

"You're wearing my shirt," Clint said as a shit eating grin slowly spread across his face. Natasha froze and her eyes shot down to actually take into account what the hell she had thrown on in her half asleep mission to get food. She vigorously shook her head and pointed to herself. Clint just laughed.

"Oh no - that is definitely my shirt. If I remember correctly it's the one I lost on our mission in Prague 6 years ago," he said with a dirty smirk on his face.

Clint paused as his own words rang in his ears.

She had it for 6 _years_.

They had been partners for 10 years.

His eyes narrowed.

She was a fucking denial _queen_. Clint's resolve to make her finally crack hardened. The woman has been stealing his clothes for over half a decade.

She was _his_.

She was going to admit it damn soon too.

Natasha saw the odd change in his mood and promptly took a step back. However he was too quick and had her shoved up at the kitchen wall within seconds before she could properly react.

"Do you like wearing my clothes Tasha?" he whispered in her ear. Natasha took a sharp breath and the next thing he knew he was flipped onto his stomach and had his face shoved into the hard wood floor with a furious Russian assassin sitting on top of him.

"Aww _come on_ Tasha! I was just teasing!" Clint gasped as she roughly pinned him to the floor. Natasha narrowed her eyes and promptly yanked on his hair and caused him to grimace.

"It's not my fault you're a T-shirt thief!" he muttered into the floor. He felt her tense and braced himself for the next wave her torture when they both smelled the burning scent in the air.

"Pancakes are burning," he said warily glancing over his shoulder at the stove. _Freedom._ He could felt the debate rage on in her head.

_Food or torture. _

_Food or torture. _

_Food or torture. _

_Stomach rumble. _

She promptly got off of him and hauled him to his feet before shoving him towards the stove.

"Glad to know I'm good for _something_," Clint said dryly as he rolled his strained shoulders and turned towards the stove and promptly turned the heat down. He felt her silently fume behind him and proceeded to start a new batch of pancakes while she calmed down.

"You know you should really try learning how to cook Tasha – what are you going to do when I'm not here huh? You can't live off burnt toast and frozen dinners for the rest of your life you know. That is just unhealthy," Clint said seriously as he flipped the pancakes.

"Who are you talking to Clint?" the sleepy voice of the Captain asked from the doorway as he slothishly made his way into the kitchen while scratching the back of his head warily.

"I am talking to Tash-…," Clint trailed off as he glanced around the suddenly empty kitchen. He pulled his spatula back from the stove and furrowed his brow in confusion.

She had disappeared.

Wow he had gotten used to listening to himself monologue all day way too fast.

"Why is your shirt on the kitchen table Barton?" Steve asked in confusion as he opened the fridge and rummaged around to find the milk. Steve paused as he heard a spatula clatter to the floor and glanced over his shoulder to find a burning red faced archer staring at his own shirt like it just told him he looked like sex on a stick or something.

"What's wrong?" Steve asked slowly. Clint just choked on his words as he made unintelligible noises.

There was a half-naked Russian assassin storming the halls of Stark tower.

_Oh dear god kill us all now. _

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: LOL? Natasha has balls of steel. XD LOL. **

**Next chapter we'll see a bit more about the people who are trying to frame her. **


End file.
